Assassin's Creed: Unbroken
by NinjaxSketcheartx
Summary: "Dad told me that the thunderbird was a good omen. Yeah right. Five minutes after he told me that he died, and it's not not like I can seek comfort from Jason… My life went downhill just as I started to see everything in a different view. On top of that, I find assassin robes in my dad's office. And I thought a demigod's life couldn't get any more dangerous. Guess I was wrong."
1. Seeing in Blue and Red

**Assassin's Creed: Unbroken**_  
_

**By NinjaxSketcheartx**

* * *

_Chapter I: Seeing in Blue and Red_

* * *

"Dad?"

"Yeah Pipes?" Tristan McLean took his eyes off the road and noticed the wary glint in her kaleidoscope eyes. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Piper swallowed the lump in her throat. She fiddled with the hem of her Aeropostle white sweater, the fabric wrinkling under her curled fingers. She looked back up and refrained from gasping.

There it was again. Her dad's figure shimmered bright blue rimmed with white streaks of light. Everything else changed, too; the inside of the car, the row of trees outside, the road, the cars passing by. Their color was replaced by a bleak dark blue and Piper could barely make out the outline of every dark shape.

Ever since she transfered to Camp Jupiter it had been like that but the minute she blinked, it disappeared and all color would return. Sometimes, she saw other people like that noteably, Jason, Reyna, Hazel, and Frank and pretty much everyone in Camp Jupiter. Some people, however, didn't even have a color. They were just shades of dark blue. These were people she saw on the streets or at a crowd. In other words, people she didn't know.

Her eyes fell back to her lap and she shook her head as all color returned. "Never mind."

Her dad's eyebrows furrowed, his lips forming into a frown. "What's wrong?"

Piper avoided his eyes by looking out the window. With her hand on her chin and the other on her lap, she heaved a long sigh and closed her eyes. Even a whole day with her dad couldn't help ease the distress she was feeling. She had planned on telling him about her strange vision but the last thing she wanted to do was ruin her sevententh birthday. Her dad had ditched filming for a new movie just so they could spend time together and she didn't want that to go to waste.

"Alright, three questions," her dad said, holding up three fingers to exaggerate his point. Piper's lips tilted up in a small smile at the mention of their little game. "Is it about Mom?"

"No," Piper drawled, saying it like it was the most obvious thing. "Now you just wasted a question."

Her dad chuckled. His one hand was on the steering wheel and the other was thoughtfully tapping his chin. "Okay, is it about camp?"

Piper puffed out her cheeks and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

Her dad scrutinized her. He took the next exit, smoothly switching lanes and going slightly over the speed limit. Piper wasn't really into cars but she liked the silver Porsche. It gave her sort of a rush. She liked the leather seats, the tinted windows, and the engine that purred like a cat.

"Okay, boy problems?" her dad asked.

At the mention, her eyes drooped and her heart ached. Her mind wandered to Jason, her sort-of boyfriend. His clean cut blonde hair, the cute scar on his lip, and his sky blue eyes that seemed to take Piper into another world. His strong arms wrapping around her, comforting her and protecting her almost seemed an illusion.

After the war with Gaea, all Jason focused on was his duties in Camp Jupiter. He didn't spend time with her, too busy with his praetor business. But when he did have the chance to spare her a moment, his smiles were forced and his shoulders were tense. Whenever they made eye contact, he was always the first to look away. This act didn't lessen Piper's anguish especially when she spotted him enjoying quality time with Reyna.

"Yeah," she admitted, one part of her hoping that her dad would just drop it, the other part begging him to ask more.

Her dad shifted uncomfortably in his seat. She felt bad for him. He was still new to this parenting and raising her all on his own must have been hard.

"You want to talk about it?" She shook her head. Fortunately, her dad didn't delve deeper and instead changed the subject. "Wanna hear something about your great grandmother?"

Genuinely curious, Piper nodded. She didn't know much about her family. Her life as a demigod seemed to occupy most of her family knowledge. Part of that was her dad's fault; for not being so open about his family's origins.

"What was her name?"

Her dad's eyes seemed to grow more pained and Piper regretted asking. "Her name was Aribelle. She was killed long before I was even born."

Piper's eyes widened as a sinking feeling hit the pit of her stomach. Some reason, her dad looked… _disturbed_ with this piece of information. That didn't make sense. If Great Grandma Aribelle died then why did her dad looked like he personally knew her? Piper knew better than to press on for more details so she silently urged him to continue or allow the silence to engulf them.

"From what my mother told me, Aribelle was beautiful," his tone was distant, his eyes deep and dark like Tartarus. What he said sounded like something that anybody would say but aren't all mothers beautiful to begin with? "When I was a kid, your grandmother told me stories of Aribelle's youth," her dad continued, smiling at the memory. "but they were all fairy tales."

Piper's forehead creased. "What were they about?"

Her dad hummed deeply in his throat. "You see, Grandma Aribelle was rebellious and from what I've been told; bold. Not that it's a bad thing," he added hastily. "Back then, not many women were given rights because of the whole gender role issue. Your great grandma fought for women rights. Literally."

Piper's chest rose up in anticipation. "And how does this have to do with the stories?"

Her dad scratched his stubble chin. "Well, to make Grandma Aribelle's stories more interesting, my mother envisioned her as a vigilante."

Piper raised her eyebrows, her lips curling into a smile. "Really?" she asked.

"Yup," he said, grinning. "She had on this white hood, kept her identity a secret and she would run around on rooftops at night, punishing the men who did women wrong."

"Sounds like fun." Piper said, admiring her great grandmother. Then a thought struck her and she asked, "But how did she not get caught?"

"Hmm, well, " her dad paused. "she wore this necklace; a good luck charm, you can say, and she had it on all the time."

"So, it magically helped her from being captured?"

Instead of answering her, he reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a white rectangular box. He placed it on her lap, and resumed driving. "Open it. It's a present for you."

Completely baffled at the turn of events, she obeyed. Her eyes blinked in curiosity once they set sight on a necklace that was presented before her. It was carved by a strong piece of wood, and shaped into some sort of bird with square-like wings and wide tail feathers, and circle eyes.

"This is it? Aribelle's necklace?" Piper asked, touching the necklace with delicate fingers.

"Yup, it's a thunderbird," he explained. "My mother told me that it stood for many things; power, glory, but mainly it symbolized good omen, hence why Aribelle wore it."

"Your… your just going to give it to me?" Piper asked, suddenly overwhelmed. She looked at him, unsure yet touched by his thoughtful gift. "I don't know dad…"

"I thought about it, and I think you should have it," he insisted earnestly, giving her a small smile. "Besides, I didn't know what to get you and you didn't ask for anything."

Spending time with you is all that I can ask, Piper thought, her heart squeezing. No amount of wealth or items could compare to the moments they shared together. She tugged at the thick thread and adjusted the strap before placing it around her neck. The patch of wood tickled her collarbone.

"Thanks dad," she smiled. "This means a lot to me."

They rode on in silence, the hum of the car enveloping them. Piper was about to suggest turning on the radio but turned back on it.

The car crossed an intersection and slowed to a stop as the streetlight turned red when her dad broke the silence.

"Piper," his tone made Piper frown. She looked at him and blinked in confusion. An expression of pain, and maybe rage—an emotion she rarely saw—crossed his face. His fingers around the steering wheel seemed to tighten like he was holding on for dear life. His dark eyes looked forward, hardening like cold steel, his lips set in a stern, firm line.

"D-Dad?" A chill ran up Piper's spine as her heartbeat quickened. She never saw him like this, not even when she stole that BMW.

"I need to tell you something," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Something important."

Warning bells rang off in her head. Another wave of chills rippled through her body, making her shiver and wonder if they were in California, and not Antarctica.

The streetlight turned green and her dad accelerated, switching lanes to get in front of the line.

"Your great grandmother…" he started, trailing off. He took a deep breath, pinched the bridge of his nose and continued, "Aribelle… she was a—"

A deafening sound cutted her dad off just as a great force hit Piper. She slammed against the car door, her right shoulder screaming in agony and her head bashing against the window. Pieces of shards sprinkled the air, landed on her lap and caused blobs of blood to spill on her white sweater. The car toppled over, rolling numerous times until it was back on its wheels.

A streak of blood ran down the side of Piper's throbbing head. Pounding ringed in her ears as white pain erupted in her shoulder. Instinctively, she held up her hands to guard her face just as the pressure of the airbag forced her backwards. With whatever strength she had left, she pushed the flattened airbag away.

She blinked, her peripheral vision blurring as dizziness settled in her beating body. Why was it that the good things in her life always had to end up like this? It was like the Fates were bored messing with the heroes and now it was time to screw up some random demigod's life simply because they felt like it.

Noticing the black bruises on her arms she unbuckled her seatbelt and grasped the door handle with trembling hands. Her whole body shook from shock and her mind scrambled at the notion that she almost died. The feeling was so familiar to her that she found herself climbing out of the car. The perks of being a demigod, Piper thought.

Wait a minute. I'm missing something.

"Dad!"

People were getting out of their cars, calling for help, and sprinted towards Piper but she paid them no mind. She had to get to her dad.

She limped around the damaged Porsche, examining the huge dent on the side. But even that paled in comparison once she saw the _real_ damage.

Her dad, Tristan McLean, famous movie star, and Piper's most favorite person in the entire world, he was…

"Dad?"

She yanked the door which fell off its hinges and onto the floor. She was on her knees, glass prickling her calves but she didn't care.

"Dad?"

Tears clouded her vision but she blinked them away. This could _not_ be happening. She touched his arm, her hands getting soaked with blood. _His_ blood. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open, a rivulet of blood running down his shirt. And his hand… it was cold. Lost of any warmth or life.

"Dad?"

She knew her efforts were pointless but she shook him violently, hoping to arouse him. She was responded with only silence.

Piper looked over shoulder, and her blood ran cold. The van that hit them was backing up, its headlights blinking until going out. A sickening feeling overwhelmed her and she was afraid that the van would accelerate and smash her like some insignificant insect. But then the van made a U-turn, leaving a trail of dust in its wake.

Staring at the van, something inside Piper snapped. She screamed, her words incomprehensive as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Past all the tears, the world around her was coated in a bloody red. Heat permeated her body, the intense feeling sending spasms of disbelief and rage. She screamed an expletive, banged her bloody fists on the car. Her chest ached with pain, the hollow feeling in her heart twisting and digging deeper until it shattered like glass.

Arms grabbed at her, pulling her away but she kicked and screamed, her charmspeak coming into full force. Something sharp injected into her upper arm and her movements slowed, every muscle in her system breaking down.

The last thing she saw was her dead dad being taken away.

_A/N: I only ask one thing from those who read: review._


	2. She's the Man

A/N: I'd like to thank **TearsOfDiamonds, king awesome, shade son ofnyx**, and **Savvy the Hunter of Artemis** for reviewing. Special thanks to **TearsOfDiamonds** and **Savvy the Hunter of Artemis** for following, and thanks to **1lyndon, Professor Marmalade,** and **PJO 4 me** for favoriting. Seeing as you guys enjoy this really means a lot to me!

Enjoy, and remember to review!

* * *

Aside from the little voice warning her in the back of her head, Piper knew something was amiss.

Rain poured down, the storms almost colored black and she could hear the sound of men chatting amiably nearby. Thunder rumbled and somewhere in the distance, the sound of gunfire ripped through the air.

Piper knew this wasn't her time; that she didn't belong in this particular era, or time period, or whatever you wanted to call it. The first clue was the tents, muskets, and logs set up on the dirt floor. The next clue was the group of men dressed in blue trousers and hats that looked fashionable back in the 18th century. Hell, this place _looked_ like the 18th century. Her suspicions were confirmed the minute she spotted the first American President hunched over a wooden table.

"Sir," her voice spoke but it wasn't hers. Piper felt the words form on her mouth and emit from her lungs but it wasn't her. It was masculine. Clear, confident, and intense. The voice of a **_man_**.

_Oh, god. What is going on? Where the hell am I?_

George Washington erected his back and looked at her. Unlike most of the pictures Piper saw in history books or on one dollar bills, he wore a blue hat with a matching cloak that seemed to billow heroically behind him. Under his hat, he still had a powder wig tied into a small ponytail and his face remained passive but stern with age lines.

He nodded discreetly at Piper. "Hello Connor. What brings you here?"

_Who's Connor?_ Piper thought. _Why am I here? And why am I in a man's body?_ She wanted to ask these things, even if she knew that George Washington didn't have the answers but her mouth was already moving on its own.

"The British have recalled their men in Philadelphia," she/Connor said. "They march for New York."

Washington clasped his hands behind his back and nodded. "Very well. I'll move our forces to Monmouth. If we can rout them, we'll have finally turned the tide."

"And what's this?"

Piper hadn't noticed him but a man, adorned in a continental hat and a black cloak, replaced the space where Washington was. He appeared to be more imposing, compared to Washington, with his tailored blue clothes and sword, and flintlock pistols attached to his belt.

He held up a rusty brown letter, simply astounded as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. That must've been what Washington was looking at because alarm etched into his face before turning into annoyance.

"Private correspondence!" Washington said, attempting to take the letter from his prying hands.

"Of course it is," the man said, casually sidestepping Washington. "Would you like to know what it says, Connor?" He paused as if to wait for Connor/Piper's response but she simply furrowed her eyebrows, unable to control her actions. "It seems your good friend here has ordered an attack on your village—"

Piper's head immediately snapped up to George Washington.

"—although attack might be putting it mildly." The man continued, speaking with a faint British accent. He waved his hand towards Washington in a nonchalant manner. "Tell him, Commander."

The Commander glanced away, shame filling his once wise eyes. "We've been receiving reports of allied natives working with the British. I've asked my men to put a stop to it."

Whether it was Piper or Connor, disgust, rage, and a hint of betrayal hit Piper so hard that she felt like a car had ran her over. The feeling reminded her of her recent accident and she wondered when she was going to wake up.

_Which reminds me,_ Piper thought. The last thing she remembered was being knocked out after the car accident. So, where was she now? Or, so to speak, where was her body because she was pretty sure that her spirit, or mind, or whatever, was taking a trip down history lane.

_But her dad…_ Did all that really happen? It was still hard to believe that her dad was dead. How would the media react to this? Surely, people were going to bombard her with questions and point unwanted cameras in her face. God, how was she going to deal with that for the rest of her life?

She tried to shake it off. She needed to focus on the matter at hand.

_But more importantly,_ she bought her attention back to George Washington, _how exactly does this have anything to do with me!?_

The man, whose name was still a mystery, continued on attacking George Washington with words. "By burning their villages and salting the land! By calling for their extermination, according to this letter. Not the first time either." With the paper still in his hand, the man stepped closer to Washington and gave him a pressing look. "Tell him what you did fourteen years ago."

"That was another time," Washington countered weakly. "The Seven Years War."

The man shook his head disapprovingly. He held up a hand, gesturing to the Commander while eying Piper/Connor. "And so now you see what happens to this '_great man_' when under duress. He makes excuses, displaces blame. Does a great many things, in fact _except_ take responsibility!"

"Enough!" she/Connor yelled. "Who did what and why must wait. My people come first."

"Then, let's be off."

"_No_." Piper/Connor held up a hand to stop him in his tracks. His smug expression was replaced with confusion. "You and I are _finished_."

"Son…"

Piper choked. This guy was Connor's _dad_? She wasn't even certain who Connor was, let alone she didn't understand why she was in his body to begin with.

"Do you think me so soft that by calling me _son_ I might change my mind?" she/Connor asked. "How long did you sit on this information? Or am I to believe you discovered it now? My mother's blood may stain another's hands, but Charles Lee is no less a monster, and all he does, he does by _your_ command!"

Her—_er,_ Connor's—words even had Piper's mind reeling. They seemed to have a heavy effect on Connor's dad because his expression was torn. She imagined her dad's face. How he looked when he found out that gods and monsters really did exist. The same broken look was plastered on this man's face.

Connor turned to leave before adding with a pointed finger, "A warning to you both—choose to follow me, or oppose me, and I _will_ kill you."

* * *

Light seeped through her blurry vision. It was so bright that Piper squeezed her eyes shut. Her ears strained but she could clearly hear the voices that stood five feet from her.

"—time we take her out of the Animus," one voice said, calm and soft. "She's seen enough."

"It was a rash and pointless decision," another chided. "We've risked a lot of trouble. Let's bring her back to her room."

"What?" Piper moaned, though to her it sounded more like, _"Waaaaaaaa?"_

"Sedate her!"

Alarm filled Piper. With her eyes still closed, she sat up but a wave of pain erupted in her abdomen, and forced her to lie back down.

"Hurry up!" the same voice commanded.

A new, and perhaps younger, voice spoke. "Geez, woman! Wait!"

Darkness clouded her thoughts, her body fell numb and limp as the needle injected into her skin.

When she came back to her senses, different but more familiar voices filtered the room.

"—eauty Queen. Yo, Sleeping Beauty. Time to wake up. Do you want me to kiss you like they did in the movie?"

A girl's voice yelled, "Leo!" before there was a noise that sounded suspiciously like a slap.

Piper's eyelids fluttered open. This time, the room was less bright but more gloomy and gray with the atmosphere of a funeral. Then again, it was a hospital room. No amount of sugarcoating would convince you that a hospital was the most jolliest place on earth. It was where people died.

With that wonderful thought floating in her mind, Piper rubbed her eyes. Three figures hovered to her left, each face friendly and familiar.

Leo rubbed the back of his head and glared at Lacy. "You didn't have to do that!" he yelled. His brown eyes fell on Piper and his expression softened. "Morning Pipes."

"Piper!" Lacy wrapped her arms around her, squeezing her bandaged shoulder and causing a wave of pain to wash over her.

"Ow, your hurting me," Piper croaked.

Lacy muttered an apology and pulled away, her hand still lingering on Piper's. The younger girl remained the same with twin pigtails on either side of her head but her braces were gone.

"Hey Piper."

Piper looked up. Percy gave her a small smile. He looked the same as well, but he appeared more mature with a stubble starting to grow on his chin.

Piper forced a smile. "Hey Percy."

"Miss me, Beauty Queen?" Leo asked, grinning widely. Nothing about him changed either but his face seemed… less childish.

"Not in the slightest," she said, smiling. She was so glad to see them here.

_Here in a hospital… visiting me…_

Alarms rang off in Piper's head and she was bought back to reality.

"Where's my dad?"

Every second of silence that rolled by was excruciatingly incessant. Three pairs of eyes averted Piper's gaze. Their lack of response was unbearable.

There was no point in deluding herself but she couldn't bring herself to say it. To _realize_ it. The truth that her dad was really and truly dead was worse than coming to terms that Jason no longer loved her. She thought losing Jason to a fake memory was the most terrible thing she'd ever experience. But this… this broke Piper on so many different levels.

"Jason…" Piper sobbed.

Leo shuffled his feet and glanced at Percy and Lacy for help. No luck. The son of Hephaestus swallowed the lump in his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. "We IM'd him earlier," he stated.

"And?" she whispered, her breathing starting to pitch.

Leo shook his head. "He said he couldn't come."

_**Snap!**_ That's what heartbreak felt like. Like stepping on a twig in a forest. Jason might as well have stepped all over her.

How could he forget about her? What happened to the thoughtful and sweet guy? Where was the boy that she loved?

But… _did_ he love her? Or was his pride and love for Camp Jupiter much stronger? What hurt the most was that he didn't even visit her when Leo, Percy, and Lacy came all the way from New York just to see if she survived a car accident while her boyfriend was too busy to even check up on her and see if she was doing alright. He was too occupied with _Reyna_ to even look at her.

And for that, she hated him. Hated him with a burning fuel as strong as a forest fire. But most of all, she hated that she still harbored feelings for him.

Past all the tears, Leo, Percy, and Lacy's figures shimmered bright blue. That strange vision haunted her. Ever since she started seeing blue, everything in her life just went wrong.

Piper hiccuped, wiped her tear streaked face with the back of her hand and asked, "Did you guys… inject a needle in me?"

Her friends were startled by her question.

"No," Lacy replied, grabbing a tissue and dabbing at Piper's cheeks. "Why would we do that?"

Piper sniveled. "I must have been dreaming."

_Sure didn't feel like dreaming,_ Piper thought. _But who were those three people earlier? It couldn't be Leo, Percy, and Lacy._ The inconceivable thought that her friends would do… _something_ with her was hard to stomach.

_And what about that dream with George Washington? That went beyond the limits of strange, even for a demigod. And who was Connor, and what relevance does he have with me?_ These questions ran through her head but she pushed them to the back of her mind. Best that she worried about it later.

Leo met Piper's gaze. "So, I'm guessing your not attending the Feast of Lupercal?" he guessed with not much merriment.

Piper looked at him questionably, waiting for one of them to explain.

"It's like Valentines Day," Percy filled in. Piper arched her eyebrows.

"Umm," Lacy trailed off. "I don't think Piper would want to come since… since…"

"Since Jason doesn't love me," Piper finished, bitterness burning hot and deep in her tone. Her friends exchanged glances.

Ugh, hearing herself say that gave her the impression of a lovesick teenager. She definitely needed to pull it together. She was going to get through this ordeal without Jason. She was determined to prove that she didn't need anyone, especially a guy, to overcome this.

"Is that the only reason why your going?" Piper asked, desperate for a distraction.

"That, and Reyna asked for us to come." Percy said. Piper tried not to bristle just by the mention of the daughter of Bellona but failed miserably.

"Anywho," Leo chirped up. "It's been a long time since I've been to Camp Jup but did you see the ladies over there?" He arched an eyebrow in Piper's direction, his smile reaching up to his ears. "Smoking hotter than my flames."

Lacy rolled her eyes. "Get over yourself."

"You know you want this."

"Okay," Percy intervened, looking really uncomfortable despite the growing smile on his face. "Considering that Piper doesn't know yet, maybe we should tell her."

Piper looked at them expectantly. It had been a year since she left Camp Half-Blood and she wasn't surprised to find that there was something she was missing out on. It concerned her, yes, but it wasn't like demigods could use Facebook or something.

"What is it?"

Percy reached into the insides of his jacket. Piper's eyes widened when he pulled out a small black, velvet box.

"Is that what I think it is?" Piper asked.

Percy's smile grew wider. "Worked three different jobs just to get enough money for it."

"Wanna know one of the jobs Percy took?" Leo elicited, clasping a hand on Percy's shoulder. "McDonalds."

Piper laughed. She could almost imagine Percy standing behind a counter, wearing a tacky uniform while asking, "Welcome to McDonalds. How can I help you?"

"So you know where I went to get lunch everyday," Leo chortled.

Percy fiddled with the box in his hands. "It cost me a fortune but it was totally worth it."

"Can I see?" Percy threw the box and she deftly caught it with her good hand.

Unlike a typcial wedding ring, this one was unique. Sure, the lucid diamond sparkled when the light reflected but it was crafted into the head of an owl. A trait that would no doubt fit appropiately for the person wearing it.

Piper ran her thumb over it. "Where'd you get this? Swarovski?"

"How'd you know?" Piper shrugged. She was viewed as a tomboy but she knew a thing or two about jewelry.

"How much did it cost?" she asked.

"About fifty-thousand." Piper's jaw went slack. She mouthed_ "what"_ and gingerly handed the box back to Percy. It was obvious that Annabeth meant a lot to him, no surprise there. Too bad that Jason didn't see Piper that way.

"But that's because I had it custom made," Percy said, tucking the box safely inside his jacket.

"And Annabeth doesn't have a clue," Lacy said.

Piper raised her eyebrows. "The smartest girl in Camp Half-Blood isn't aware of Percy's proposal? I find that hard to believe."

Aside from Percy's proposal, there hadn't been much going on at Camp Half-Blood other than the fact that it was beginning to expand. Annabeth had plans to add a building pertaining to the events of the war against Gaea, and how the Greeks and Romans finally made a truce with one another.

"We're gonna be famous," Leo said, showing her the construction site on his newly acquired mini iPad. "Paintings and statues of us all over. They're calling us 'The Heroes of Olympus.'"

Piper smiled. That seemed like an appropriate name for the seven demigods of the Second Great Prophecy. The subject of fame had Piper recalling the conversation she had with her dad.

_"They're going to remember me as Piper McLean's father, and that's the best legacy I can imagine."_

Though his words touched her heart, it was almost as if they had a deeper meaning behind it. Piper had the feeling that her dad was trying to convey something more, now that she reflected on it.

In that minute, the door opened. Annabeth, Mitchell, Mellie, and Coach Hedge briskly walked in. Mellie and Annabeth held a Starbucks cup in both hands while Coach Hedge and Mitchell held shopping bags and balloons. One of the balloons said, "Let go of your problems like a balloon."

Piper couldn't help herself; she cried. How was she going to get through her life knowing that her dad wasn't going to be there? Who was she going to play three questions with now? She knew she was going to lose him one day but not like this. Not in a car accident; officially declared dead and leaving a seventeen year old daughter to fend for herself.

Annabeth hugged her. She had been the first one to see Piper cry after her major life change as a demigod settled in. Annabeth had reassured her that Jason would like her regardless if the Mist manipulated her memories. How utterly wrong she was.

But unlike last time, Annabeth didn't say it was going to be alright because Piper knew for sure that _nothing_ was ever going to be alright.

"Excuse me."

At the door, two men materialized. They both wore black trench coats with cheap suits and leather shoes. Around their neck, a silver police badge dangled off.

"We need to speak with Miss McLean," one man said, his eyes empty and pitiless.

Annabeth squeezed her hand and gave Piper one more hug. Her friends sent her a worried glance before they all scurried out the door.

"Hello Piper," one of the men said. He was in his mid-forties with thinning brown hair and laugh lines. He walked up to her as if he was approaching a wounded animal. "How are you?"

"Terrible."

The man allowed a sigh to tore past his chapped lips. The other man with the ruthless eyes stepped up, a notepad and a pen in his hands. "We have a few questions for you," he stated.

Piper kept her voice even when she answered their questions. She explained how the white van drove away as soon as it hit them. She kept the part out when she saw "red" and made a mental note to ask the doctor what that meant.

When the two cops wrapped things up and filed out of her room, Piper waited until the door closed, and their steps receded, before she cried her heart out.


	3. Mason Rhymes With Jason

_A/N: Thank you **kingawesome, L1berty0rD34th**, and **Savvy the Hunter of Artemis** for reviewing. And thank you, **MoB24**, for following._

_To answer your question, **L1berty0rD34th** (if your still reading this story) I chose to put this in the PJO fanfic. Yeah, I liked Haytham, too, and it was sad that you had to kill him. Ubisoft should have done something more with him but they rushed the game, so it's their fault._

_And no, **kingawesome**, Assassin's can't see through the Mist because their still considered mortals but on the bright side, Templars can't either._

_Now, enjoy and remember to review!_

* * *

_Chapter III: Mason Rhymes With Jason_

* * *

"Stupid laptop. Why are you lagging?"

After four minutes and twenty-one seconds—_yes_, she counted—of waiting, Piper exited out of Safari. She clicked onto Firefox and typed in _The Seven Years War_. The same thing happened. It loaded at a slow pace and showed the same message: _You are not connected to the internet. Please check your Wi-Fi—_and all that other bullcrap that she didn't bother reading.

She leaned back, closed her eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. She was still trying to decipher her dream with George Washington and no amount of sitting down, pondering long and hard would help. Maybe if she was a daughter of Athena, she'd have figured something out.

Aggravated, Piper shut the Macbook and pulled her legs up on the leather couch. She peered around her dad's office, nostalgia washing over her.

While it stands true that she didn't have many memories in here, the place reeked of her dad's scent. The movie poster, The King of Sparta, was framed on the wall across from her in between two bookshelves with a mini spotlight to illuminate it. To her right, the wall showed an amazing view of Malibu, the clear blue ocean glistening in the sunlight through a well-kept glass. Never mind the comfortable looking leather couches and loveseats, the 46 inch flat screen TV built with a BOSE stereo was ostentatious enough. The jukebox looked pretty sustainable with not one speck of dust. But what was really impressive was the vatican balcony that would make anyone feel invincible if you just stood there.

However, when Piper had walked into the room, she payed no mind to any of that. It was the silver office armchair, behind the desk with framed pictures of Tristan and Piper—bringing back idyllic memories that she allowed herself to indulge in—that caught her attention. If it had eyes, the armchair would have stared back at her hauntingly. It was a piece of furniture that would stay forever empty of its owner.

The mansion, itself, belonged to her. Everything ranging from the BMW's, Porsche's (she winced at the mere mention) the servants, and pretty much everything else were passed down to her. Some Director, whose name Piper hadn't bothered to remember, suggested that if she was interested in acting she'd give him a call. Piper's first instinct was to throw away the card, and that she did.

But _home_ wasn't the proper word for this place. Whatever remains of her human life that lied in this house offered her sanctuary from the craziness of a demigod. For the past two months she took refuge here, upset from her crumbling relationship with Jason, and being comforted by her dad. But now, he was gone and this place was no longer considered home.

It was hard returning, though. It was a big, empty three story white mansion, housing a broken, lonely teenager, a perky wind nymph, and several servants who were probably exploiting the luxury of her riches.

Her pensive mood was broken when there was a knock at the door.

"Mellie," Piper groaned. "I'm not hungry."

These past few days were nothing but a blur. Mellie, who felt obligated to take care of Piper, became her official guardian not long after she was released from the hospital. Piper continuously pushed Mellie away, reassuring her that she was fine, but the wind nymph only grew more persistent.

As for her eating habits, well, Piper wasn't the type of person to eat her feelings. Due to her prolonged depression, she sometimes forgot to eat and Mellie would be there trying to stuff food in her mouth. Piper still had her cornucopia that she retrieved from Achelous after cutting off his horn, back when she and Jason were still together. So she decided to nab that and lock herself in her dad's office, only coming out when she needed to use the bathroom.

The doorknob to the mahogany door twisted in an attempt to open but to no avail. Piper had wedged a folding chair underneath the doorknob, preventing any trespassers from invading.

On the other side, muffled words resounded the hallway. Piper glared at the door, hoping that Mellie would just leave her alone.

"Go away, Mellie!" she yelled. "I told you I'm not hungry!"

"This isn't Mellie."

Piper frowned, her eyes widening with alarm and disbelief. _That voice…_

She was already at the door, removing the chair and opening it.

Piper caught her breath. The person outside her dad's office was, in fact, not Mellie. The guy must've been college age but she wouldn't be surprised if he was younger. The top of his dark hair went up in small spikes but it extended in straight locks in the back of his neck. His eyes were dark green; like a leaf after it got dowsed with heavy rain.

His clothes were plain. Black pants, black vest, and a pair of green Lacoste sneakers which messed up his professional attire. The sleeves of his Ralph Lauren polo shirt were rolled up, showing a dark brown bracelet with pictures of Jesus on each square bead. It didn't take her long to realize that he was probably one of the servants, maybe an intern.

But the weird part was that he appeared very much like Jason despite looking absolutely nothing like him. His skin wasn't light; it was actually tan, and the guy must've been from some kind of Spanish descent. He assessed Piper with kindness, giving off the aura of a chivalrous gentleman, and his countenance held a sort of faint sadness.

Not only did he remind her of Jason but he seemed strangely familiar.

Piper opened her mouth to ask him if they've met when Mellie floated—literally—towards her, crashing her with a hug.

"Oh, thank the gods!" Mellie said, her voice shrill but overflowing with relief. "You've been holed up in there for so long I was afraid you jumped off the balcony."

To this, Piper rolled her eyes. There was no way that she would committ suicide. She was willing to prove that she could overcome this. It was a long and tiring process but she knew she would pull through. Besides, jumping off the balcony probably wouldn't have hurt her considering that there was a swimming pool.

Gently pushing Mellie away, Piper refocused her attention to the mystery guy. Only, she now noticed the small bundle of fur squirming near his feet.

Piper gasped and, before anyone could stop her, dropped to her knees.

The orange colored dog whimpered, making Piper's heart squeeze. She _loved_ dogs. She grew up with one and was heartbroken when her first dog, Joey, the cutest Russell Terrier ever, died of old age.

"Hi there," Piper said gently, reaching out to pet the poor thing. The pup flinched as her fingers brushed its long hair. "It's okay. I won't hurt you."

The dog's black eyes traveled to the guy still standing awkwardly outside the door as Piper encased the puppy in her arms.

"What's his name?" she asked, the tips of her lips curling upwards.

Mellie smiled. "This little guy's name is Brownie."

_How… ironic,_ Piper thought, looking down and beaming at the Shiba Inu.

"Why's he look so scared?" she stroked Brownie's head affectionately.

The no-name guy straightened his posture, a look of pity masking his face. "Poor Brownie here was abused by a bad family somewhere in Quebec."

Piper's eyes glistened in wonder, staring down at Brownie. _Why would anyone want to hurt this cute little thing?_ The fact that there were sick mortals who thought hitting dogs was anything but heinous revolted her so much she felt her blood rising in anger.

She bought Brownie up to her face, and nuzzled her cheek with his. Brownie was tremulous. The pup was shaking so much its fur tickled her skin.

"Not that I'm complaining, but why is he here?" Piper inquired.

Mellie's smile grew even wider. "He's a gift from Jason!"

Piper's heart stopped beating. _What?_

She glanced down at the pup, too non-plussed that she barely had time to register the blue bag being shoved in her face.

Setting Brownie down, Piper grabbed the plastic bag from Mellie's eager hands. A bouquet rested inside, the red flowers wrapped around a clear plastic. It was still in good condition and it filled her nostrils with its fresh sweet scent.

She read the note:

_To: Piper McLean_

_From: Jason Grace_

_How are you? Come back soon._

Her initial reaction was to throw the bag over her head and prance around the room with tears of mirth, maybe even jump off the balcony. But instead she turned to Mellie, her eyes burning with conviction.

"How _dare_ you," Piper accused.

She didn't miss the shock that crossed the wind nymph's face. It was quickly masked with confusion. "What are you—"

"How could you do this?" Piper interrupted. "Do you think I'm an idiot? This gift is obviously from you!"

"No!" She denied. "Jason bought you this!"

"Oh, come on," Piper elicited. "I know for a fact that he wouldn't give me this."

"How would you know?"

_Because I don't like flowers,_ Piper thought. _And I'm pretty sure I told him this._ She was about to explain this to Mellie but Jason wasn't exactly paying her any attention these past few months, now was he?

But aside from that, the note might as well say: **Mellie bought this!**

Piper fixed Mellie with a glare and cleared her throat. "Because the day you signed the documents to officially become my guardian, you wrote your last name as _Jefferson_." Mellie must've realized her mistake and she tried to counter it but Piper was already on a roll. "And it just so happens that Jason writes his 'J' like yours?" Piper shook her head. "That can't be a coincidence."

"Well, I didn't know how to cheer you up."

"So, you thought lying to me would make me feel better?" To Piper, that was like saying you were going to give her the whole world. It was ridiculous.

"I am not good at this," Mellie admitted, her voice cracking. Tears in her eyes started to form, making the anger in Piper disperse. "Coach Hedge has gone missing. I've contacted camp and they said that no one's seen him."

That surprised Piper. _Where in God's name is that old goat? Was he serious when he said that he was enlisting in the army?_

"First, Tristan, then my goatie-kins—"

_Goatie-kins?_

"—and now your starting to slip away." Mellie cried, wiping a tear from her eye. The wind nymph's face became more transparent until there was nothing but an empty space.

_Gone in the wind,_ Piper thought. _Pun intended._

_Which leaves me with this guy._ Though saddened and guilty for being so selfish, Piper assessed the Spanish guy standing in the doorway. Something told her that he wasn't mortal. She forced herself to look the stranger straight in the eye and gave him a weak smile.

"Uh, I'm sorry about what just happened," she blurted out. She mentally slapped herself for doing so, thinking herself stupid for apologizing.

"It's all right," he said softly. "I could see why you'd be mad at something like that."

She narrowed her eyes. Out of whim, she played different possible scenarios in her head where she could corner him and charmspeak him into giving him answers about why he was at the hospital. Piper may have been the daughter of love and beauty but that didn't automatically make her ignorant. And the guy standing in front of her had the same voice as that guy in the hospital when she first woke up.

When you were a demigod, you didn't believe in conicidences. These things happened for a reason.

"Have we've met?" Piper asked, adding some charmspeak into her words.

"Not… really," he said, trying to sound casual.

"Are you sure?" she coaxed.

The guy cleared his throat. "Well, not officially, I guess. I'm a senator of Camp Jupiter."

_A Roman demigod,_ Piper thought. _And a senator, too_. She didn't attend those meetings at the Senate House partially because she wasn't a member even though she had a way with words.

"You have a name?" she asked.

Ignoring her dry tone, the guy held out his hand. "The name's Mason."

She meant to shake his hand but she withdrew, her fingers curling into a fist.

_Mason… Mason rhymes with Jason._

Someone was playing a sick joke on her. Surely, the Fates couldn't be too cruel. Losing Jason and watching her dad die was enough but _this_...

"Are you okay?" Mason asked, his eyebrows furrowing in concern.

"Y-yeah."

He nodded uncertainly. "You can keep Brownie, y'know. I wasn't lying when I said he was abused."

Piper gazed into his eyes, searching for any lies that hid behind his green orbs. She saw none.

Not wanting to undergo another awkward silence, he continued. "Oh, but it may take some time for him to get used to you."

"Right," Piper said, trying hard not to stare too much at him. "Um, thanks." She waved him off, gesturing that he was dismissed.

Mason reached out to close the door. He hesitated, his hand resting on the doorknob.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. He met her eyes and said, "Oh, you dropped this."

In Mason's hand was _the_ necklace. The thunderbird necklace that belonged to Piper's great grandma, Aribelle. The last present she will ever get from her dad.

Piper inwardly cursed herself. She had chucked the necklace over her shoulder in the hallway when she came into her father's study, hoping that the stupid thing would sink into the floor and die; just like her dad.

Piper could practically hear her dad say: _"My mother told me that it stood for many things; power, glory, but mainly it symbolized good omen."_

_Good omen my ass,_ Piper thought.

Another sigh tore at her lips. "Thanks," she grumbled, begrudgingly grabbing the necklace from Mason's warm hand.


	4. Assassin Robes

_A/N: A quick update? Completely unheard of! Lucky for you guys, this chapter was suppose to be chapter III but it got delayed and voila!_

_Thank you **kingawesome**, **Savvy the Hunter of Artemis**, and **pjato-lover** for reviewing. Big thanks for **pjato-lover** for favoriting/following and thank you, **The Faerie** for following._

_**kingawesome**: I'm not sure whether you read my message that I wrote in the last chapter but I did not put this in the PJO/AC fanfic for specific reasons. It's because I simply see no point in putting it there when I can place it in here so readers, who aren't familiar with the AC world, can read this story._

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_Chapter IV: Assassin Robes_

The day after she met Mason, Piper decided that it was time she went back to school. Most teenagers would have stayed home but she was convinced that she needed to get out of the house. And as far as her normal life was concerned, she had to keep her grades up and her absence must have hindered her progress with her studies.

Her dad had enrolled her in a public high school and though it was nothing like those TV dramas, she didn't exactly see eye to eye with other students. Only now, she understood what it was like to be an outcast.

Piper, despite how "pretty" she was, tried to maintain a low profile. It was no secret that she survived the car accident. Her face was all over the news, and now she was exposed; everyone knew who her dad was.

She had thrown on a gray pull-over sweater, a pair of Toms and cargo shorts. All day, she kept her hood up but, of course, this endeavor failed to keep people from gawking at her.

Her classes went by fast and for that, Piper was grateful. Some students would stare and send her pity looks or approach her and apologize for the death of her dad. Some idiots even offered to console her (prompting her to cry in the bathroom stall for a full ten minutes) but she resisted. The only reason her peers would comfort her was so they could take advantage of her. Piper knew better now, or maybe she was just growing paranoid.

After a hectic day of dodging annoying people and actually charmspeaking one of them to leave, Mason picked her up. Apparently, he _was_ working for her dad.

She said nothing to him; only nodding to acknowledge his presence. He didn't ask her how was her day, and she knew one-sided conversations were pointless so the drive home was relatively quiet.

Piper tried not to think about the last time she was in a car. _Glass shattering, the car flipping over, blood splattering the pavement…_

Her eyes watered but she held back the tears. Now was not the time to cry.

The car pulled in front of her house, and she opened her door and stepped out, exhaling exasperatedly. Before she even entered her mansion, she heard barking and made a beeline for her father's study.

Piper passed Mellie's room and she flinched, recalling that Mellie was still upset with her even though it was her fault for attempting to lie to her. She continued down the hallway, thinking that it was best not to bother the wind nymph.

When she opened the door to her dad's office, she felt her eyebrows rise up in amusement. It was a strange sight. Her dog, Brownie, was sniffing the jukebox, his legs trotting around the device like it was the most interesting fire hydrant. The pup barked at the jukebox once again and repeated its investigation.

"Great," Piper murmured. "How am I suppose to do my homework?"

"I could take him out for a walk."

Startled, she didn't realize that Mason was behind her. The fact that he was so quiet made her dubious about his antics.

She nodded and watched him disappear around the corner, Brownie tagging along with his tail waggling.

That guy was a walking question mark. Mason had to have some sort of hidden agenda. She was still convinced that he was the same guy from the hospital.

Piper rubbed her temple and closed the door. Now, exactly _why_ was Brownie barking at the jukebox? Dogs didn't exactly bark at furniture unless there was something dangerous about it, and Piper seriously doubted that a jukebox would cause any harm.

_Unless…_

Piper tapped her chin thoughtfully. She never would have pegged her dad as secretive but he always sent her away, so it came to mind exactly what did he do with whatever free time he had.

If she concentrated hard enough, perhaps she could activate that blue vision. She didn't know what good it would do but starting her history essay didn't sound so appealing right now.

Throwing her bag on the couch, she stood in front of the jukebox, noticing that it was bigger than her, crossed her arms and glared at it.

After two minutes, it worked. The world around her was coated in dark blue. Well, everything except the jukebox. It's aura glowed a pure white.

_Well, that's different._

She searched around the device, feeling the curved edge of the top, examining the front and the side. She kneeled down, her hands running over the colorful designs, looking for anything that struck her odd.

Piper tried pulling it but the bottom was practically glued to the floor.

_Or you're just weak,_ she thought bitterly.

She speculated the jukebox once more, comtemplating on giving up until she noticed scratch marks on the floor. It was like… like… like someone was moving a piece of furniture.

That didn't make sense. The stupid jukebox wouldn't budge, and using force wouldn't solve anything.

She gave the jukebox another once-over. Only now did she notice the grid on the front and her brow furrowed when her eyes located a cavity within the red circle. The hole was carved perfectly to fit the image of a bird.

Not just any bird. A _thunderbird_.

Automatically, she reached under her shirt, fumbling with Great Grandma Aribelle's necklace. The cavity in the jukebox had the same square-like wings, wide tail feathers, and curved head with a small beak.

Without a second thought, she removed the necklace and placed it in the hole. It was a perfect fit.

…Nothing happened.

Her mouth twisted into a frown and she growled in an unladly like manner. _What a waste,_ she thought.

Standing up and feeling foolish, she shook her head in what must have been disappointment or shame. She turned on her heel, the outline of her essay already forming in her head, but then the most ear-splitting sound erupted halted her. The grating and cacophonous sound of… something forced her to cover her ears.

When it ended, she looked behind her and felt her mouth gape open. Instead of the jukebox leaning against the wall, the device was inexplicably pushed forward from one side, and on the wall was a hole about as tall as the jukebox.

The recess in the wall was entirely black, the light refusing to seep inside or show a glimpse of what was yonder. Her stomach dropped and her heart climbed its way into her throat. Whatever lay beyond that secret passage, she was absolutely sure that it was unsettling.

You'd think that after surviving an end-of-the-world quest, she'd seen it all. Apparently, there was so much that she hadn't experienced yet.

Somehow, Piper mustered enough courage to step forward. She didn't know what to expect. A room full of money with stacks of gold bars? Statues and paintings of her mother, Aphrodite? Dead bodies?

That last one sent a shiver down her spine.

She ducked her head and searched the wall for a light switch. Her fingers found a hard shape, and flicked the switch—and stopped.

**_What. The. Hell?_**

They stared back at her, lined up against the wall like diligent soldiers. Both of them were contained within a class case and a yellow light descended upon them like they were trophies. Their colors swirled from red, black, blue, and occasionally brown but white being the dominant color. The colors were rich. The fabric, though archaic, stylish and embroidered with designs and folds that only the patience of an artist could have.

Piper, completely at loss for words, felt overwhelmed. She took a tentative step forward, aware that her palms moistened and her palpitate heart only worsened the swelling feeling in her chest. Her stomach churned and every step took her farther from the door and closer into something perilous.

The first outfit seemed appropiately made for a man; and a sturdy one, at that. The robe was a dirty white outlined with blue and the hood had a beak which adorned the sign of an eagle. The sleeves were thick—most likely to define the muscles of the person wearing it.

An assortment of weapons surrounded it on each side. The right had a wooden hand made bow with an empty quiver woven of animal skin. The other side had several flintlock pistols and swords but the one weapon that caught Piper's eye was the tomahawk that was displayed on a seperate marble table. Piper got the sense that it had seen death in many different forms.

As for the other outfit, it was obvious that it was more suited for the opposite sex. Unlike the other one, it was more modern with belt buckles and leather straps, however the hem of the robe was decorated with fur and feathers. The weapons surrounding this one paled in comparison for it only consisted of a revolver and a worn out whip.

But what both outfits donned was a strange symbol. It was the one feature that Piper found most captivating and if not, most significant. The belt on both outfits held the strange symbol adjusted in the center, as well as on the armguards. She saw that symbol somewhere...

Buried in the depths of her memories, the strange symbol—which pointed at the top and curved downwards with sharp tips—flashed haphazardly in her mind. Her eyes shut and she squinted, her hand going up to rub her temple where the source of the migraine pounded furiously like a hammer.

_"Daddy?"_

_A seven-year old Piper lifted the back of her feet so she could balance on her toes. The dining table that her dad was using was too high for her, and she cursed herself for being born so short._

_"Yeah, Pipes?" Her dad asked, pushing away the documents he was reading. Seven-year old Piper looked curiously at the papers, noticing the strange symbol printed on it._

_So that's why it looks familiar..._ Piper thought, the throbbing in her head dissipating. _But what does all this mean? Why would Dad have these stored in here?_ This revelation not only appalled her but it confused her.

Judging from the dust collecting on the suits, someone (that someone being her dad) must have dusted it often... or wore it at one point. She wanted desperately to believe that he dusted it but the latter diminished as she reevaluated the room.

To her right, a small table and a single chair was set up. Next to the lamp, a journal made of brown leather lay innocently. In the midst of the apprehension building up inside her, Piper found herself pacing forward the table, feeling like a moth drawn to a flame.

She wondered if this journal belonged to her dad. Suddenly, she was reluctant to peer into the book and uncover its secrets. She looked back to the outfits aligned on the wall, then back to the book.

_Perhaps I could learn why the heck Dad has these stored here,_ Piper thought. _But wouldn't it be disrespectful just raiding someone's personal thoughts?_ Her mind countered. _Especially since that someone is my dad, and that he's dead? But that won't get me anywhere..._

Eventually, her curiosity won.

Her fingers brushed against the old leather as she flipped the book open. Her eyes squinted as she tried to read the contents of the first page for it was written in faded black ink and scripted in beautiful curves. Her eyebrows furrowed as it dawned on her that this journal, in fact, did not belong to her dad due to the articulate and stylish handwriting. No way this journal could be written by someone from the 21st century, unless the person had the ability to write so exquisitely, which (let's face it) was such a rare occurence that it seemed unlikely.

Nonetheless, Piper read the first entry.

_September 27, 1769_

_Leaving home was harder than I thought. I expected the journey to fill me with a sort of pride; a sense of accomplishment. But whatever it was that carried me away from home soon fled—replaced with questions and no small amount of doubt. Had I been too hasty? Had I made a mistake? The others in the village, they thought this was something I wanted; something I chose to do. But it never felt that way to me. No, it was not a choice. It was an obligation. Because if not me, then who?_

"Yep," Piper muttered when she read the date. "Definitely not the 21st century."

Though the handwriting was a little hard to read, it wasn't as confusing as the language Shakespeare used. And for that, Piper flipped the rusty page to continue.

_March 5, 1770_

_So I trained. In running, in climbing, in fighting, in falling... And for every lesson that concerned the body, there were two that concerned the mind; language, philosophy, logic, the arts... Achilles taught most often of the Assassins and Templars. Their structures, origins, and purpose. Centuries of history condensed into a few short days... I told him of the men who had burned my village; of Charles Lee and my promise to him. Achilles explained that Lee and his followers were Templars, and that they were led by none other than my own father. If I was to serve the Order, these men would become my targets._

_So I worked harder; learned faster. But for all of my progress, it was clear that I still had much to learn. My training had only just begun._

Piper's skin may have been dark but she paled as she read, and reread, the fourth sentence of the first paragraph.

_Assassins…_

The floor beneath her feet disappeared, replaced by an abyss that swallowed her. Her stomach churned, the clock ticking in the distance and echoing in her ears.

Suddenly, everything made sense. Well, almost everything. It was nowhere near inscrutable, maybe at first, but now she understood. The necklace, Great Grandma Aribelle… Was her blue vision connected to this, as well?

_So, what does that make me?_ Piper thought. _Assassins..._ She noticed that Assassin and Templars were capitalized.

And that bought up a new question: _What is a Templar?_

_And what about Connor… Is he an Assassin?_ She instinctively glanced at the outfits, wondering if those robes belonged to him.

_That still doesn't explain why I dreamed that I was in his body,_ Piper thought.

An idea occured to her. She flipped to the front of the journal, hoping that there was a name. When she didn't see one, she went to the back. At the very end of the book, the bottom right page was signed: **Ratonhnhaké:ton**

"Who in Aphrodite's name is that?" She murmured, her eyebrows scrunching. "And how do you even pronounce that?"

Then, she noticed the other name written below it:

**Connor Kenway**

"O-kay. So, what? Does that make him my ancestor?" Piper asked aloud, talking to no one in particular.

_But it still doesn't explain why I dreamed I was in his body!_ Demigods didn't receive dreams of the past, at least not unintentionally. Especially her. When she gazed into her dagger, Katoptris, she saw possibilities; future events that would lead to tragic outcomes unless she prevented them.

_That guy in the hospital... what did he say?_ Piper thought. _An Animus? What the hell is that?_

With the grudging promise of more research, she brushed her uneven bangs out of her face and huffed indignantly.

Was it her imagination or did the floorboards behind her creaked?

Piper whipped around, her face wild, ready for a fight, with her fists shaking from fear or anger, she couldn't tell. Her eyes widened when they fell upon _him._ "What the hell are you—"

The hard blow to her head knocked the breath out of her. Fortunately, Mason hit her on the left side and not the side where her head injury was still healing. She crumpled against the cold floor, dizzied from the hit. The pain sent her brain scrambling and she was unable to focus on anything that wasn't spiraling.

The sad truth? Piper didn't dare get up. With all that happened so far, the floor seemed real comfortable compared to everything else.

For the second time that day, a stray tear fell from her cheek as the aching in her heart increased by a tenfold.

Nothing mattered in her life anymore. She had no one. Jason didn't love her. He was with Reyna, and he didn't so much as bat an eye at her whenever she walked by. Her life had no direction, no purpose; it was taking a turn that would only lead to her demise. Whatever strength she carried washed away, replaced with agony and she cried out to anybody who would take it away. To end her suffering.

It didn't bother her that Mason was standing there, probably ready to finish her off. Piper didn't care about his intentions concerning why. The next time she opened her eyes, she'd be reunited with her dad.

"I'm sorry," was the last thing she heard before the world faded to black.

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**_A/N: Review?_**


	5. Bloodlust

_**Spoilers for Mark of Athena!**__ This chapter will have snippets of Jasper moments in the book. Don't say I didn't warn you!_

_Thank you, __**The Helios Spirit**__, __**kingawesome**__, __**AMmy15WiseGirl**__ for reviewing, and thank you __**The **__**Helios Spirit**__ for following. I'm surprised to see that your all still enjoying this but I'm glad nonetheless._

_Now, onwards!_

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_Chapter V: Bloodlust_

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"Last I checked, you were my awesome girlfriend Piper."

_Not awesome enough, apparently._

"It's just...I never felt that way toward Reyna," Jason said, "so I didn't think about its making you uncomfortable. You've got nothing to worry about, Pipes."

_Liar._

"I wanted to hate her," Piper admitted. "I was so afraid you'd go back to Camp Jupiter."

Jason looked surprised. "That would never happen. Not unless you came with me. I promise."

_Not exactly a stickler for promises, are you Jason?_

"You trust her." Piper's voice sounded hollow, even to herself.

"Look, Pipes. I told you, you've got nothing to be jealous about."

"She's beautiful. She's powerful. She's so… Roman."

Jason put down his hammer. He took her hand, which sent a tingle up her arm.

"_You're_ beautiful and powerful," he said. "And I don't want you to be Roman. I want you to be Piper. Besides, we're a team, you and me."

She wanted to believe him. And like a fool, she did.

"I don't deserve you."

"You're not allowed to say that."

"Why not?"

"It's a breakup line. Unless you're breaking up—"

Jason leaned over and kissed her. The colors of the Roman afternoon suddenly seemed sharper, as if the world had switched to high definition.

"No breakups," he promised. "I may have busted my head a few times, but I'm not _that_ stupid."

_Well maybe I'm the one who's stupid._

She didn't cry. She tried so hard not to. Why waste tears on someone who wasn't even thinking about you? Why should she punish herself with these painful memories for something that was way beyond her control? But it made her wonder what happened to change all that.

Was she not good enough? Did Jason grow tired of her? Was that it?

She focused on a different aspect, one that she never would have considered.

She would hate Jason. Hate him down to the core, hoping that something tragic happened to him. Perhaps that would atone for all the hurt he'd done. It sounded sadistic, but at this point Piper was beyond caring.

In retrospect, she wanted to kick herself for believing him. After two years, all those kisses, promises, and moments where Jason would comfort her were nothing but a distant memory. Sadly, it was also a world which she clinged to in hopes of a better future. But from the way that her life took an unexpected turn, it wasn't looking too bright.

_What does it matter?_ She thought. _I'm dead anyway._

She forced her eyes to open just a smidge. Her body shuddered at the blinding light which allowed her to further believe that Mason had finished her off. Her head was swimming from the aftereffect of getting bashed on the head. Specks of black floated her vision and her stomach clenched from prolonged hunger. Who knew that being dead would feel so woozy?

The room smelled of hand sanitizer, and when she climbed out of bed—how did she get there?—she swayed on her feet.

The room only consisted of a bed, a wooden nightstand with a lamp, and a dining table with a pot of yellow and white flowers with a velvet armchair. She noticed that there were no personal items, or windows. The yellowish wall was vacant of any photos or paintings.

Once Piper assessed the room, she questioned whether she was in the Underworld. She had never been in the Underworld before, but she was pretty sure that the boatman, Charon, would be present. Unless this was a waiting room for special demigods or something.

Maybe she wasn't dead. She didn't _feel_ dead. And if she wasn't, then it bought up the question concerning why Mason had spared her, and why he bonked her on the head in the first place. The next time she saw him she was going to beat him senseless. Hopefully, he wouldn't have a club with him.

_First things first,_ she thought,_ find out where you are._

Piper padded softly to the white door, her heart ringing loudly in her ears. She twisted the knob slowly, hoping that the door wouldn't creak, and opened it. The click it made would have gave her away but she pushed it forward and found herself in a narrow hallway.

Four bedroom doors flanked each side. Her eyes wondered aimlessly, her hand going up to the wall for support. As Piper advanced, the sound of a tv, along with loud snoring, could be heard. She scurried past the first door, noticing the stainless steel nameplates printed on each door. Shiki, Lance, Julian, Roberto… uncommon names that didn't sound familiar to her.

Piper made no effort to linger. This house was making her feel homesick despite the fact that she had no one waiting for her at home.

She turned the corner, found a flight of stairs that led down in a U-turn, and tip-toed as quietly as she could. Every step on the stairs creaked under her light footfalls and she inwardly cursed, a thin layer of sweat trickling down the side of her head.

Once she reached the bottom steps, she covered her eyes from the sunlight streaming in through the window, and scanned the living room for any sign of life form. So far, this place reminded her of a hotel room. Everything was clean, nothing was out of place, but it was _too_ organized. It scared her.

Hmm, if she got her hands on a pair of shoes and some food, she'd be on her merry little way. Piper had no clue why she was brought here but her kidnappers must have been hospitable enough not to tie her up on a chair. But the pit of her stomach told her that the reason she was bought here can't be good regardless of how she was treated.

A small hallway to her right led to three doors but she didn't dare poke her head in any of them. She couldn't risk being found. The house was big but quiet, so it allowed her to believe that no one was occupying the first floor.

She was proven wrong when she entered the next room.

Standing up from the couch, not sensing her presence with Bose headphones around his neck, was Mason.

Piper didn't hesitate. She lunged for him.

She caught Mason off guard and together they tumbled to the floor. Things were moving too fast for her to comprehend but she grabbed a fistful of what she thought was his shirt. They rolled several times, both trying to gain the upperhand. Mason grunted, muttered curses in Spanish, and kneed her shin. A spasm of pain jolted her leg but she brushed it aside, planting her forearms against his chest. With a twist of her legs, her knees pressed against his chest, pinning him down.

Feeling a sense of victory and pride well up inside her, Piper grabbed Mason's collar and slammed his head against the floor. Heat permeated throughout her body, fueling her anger. Her hands grabbed his throat, her fingernails pressing hard against his flesh. The building hatred inside her forced her to bash his head once more against the tiled floor.

"Wait." Mason's tone was raspy like he was gargling marbles. "I'm not… your enemy."

Piper's subconscious wavered, Mason's squeaky voice bringing her back to the realization of what she was doing before it quickly dissolved.

Piper pressed harder on his throat, feeling quite satisfied when he gasped for air.

Her multi-colored eyes hardened as she stared down at him. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't—"

"—kill you?" Mason finished, choking.

Her nostrils flared. She knew that a little more pressure would cut off his oxygen but whatever principles she held so close disappeared. Life was easier when there was someone to blame, and Mason was the closest guy.

Everything seemed long forgotten now. In Piper's mind, it no longer mattered whether Mason was her enemy or friend. She was angry. Angry for losing her dad, angry at Jason, angry at the gods for giving her this fate. The amount of torment she suffered in the past week was excruciating to carry on her shoulders alone but beneath it all, frustration and fury builded up.

Mason was in a state of panic now. He had an iron grip on her wrists, his eyes as wide as saucers and his face was the color of an eggplant. But the more he struggled, the less air he would sustain for his lungs. Images of Mason sprawled on the floor, lifeless and limp, a pile of blood spilling from his body actually _pleased_ her.

And that was **wrong**.

Piper faltered, her shoulders relaxing, the grip on Mason's neck loosening. The heavy taste of bloodlust within her drained. She quivered, guilt starting to wash over her.

What had she done? How could she look into a mirror and not feel ashamed for what she was about to do?

And where had that come from? The bloodlust, the need to hurt someone; it wasn't something she regularly felt. What was even more horrifying was that she took pleasure in it. Just thinking about it made her sick.

Piper rested on top of Mason, her eyes glazing over him in horrified wonder. His dark green eyes stared into hers but she saw past him. The thought of him lying dead by her hands flashed once again, making her wince at the mental image.

"Whoa!"

Piper blinked multiple times and cast a glance over her shoulder. A boy, about twelve or so, popped up. He looked like he was ready for a beach party, a red plastic cup in his hands and a pair of sunglasses on his head. His light brown hair was cut in tiny spikes and under his golden brown eyes were shadows resulting from insomnia.

The boy's face broke into a wide smile. "Am I interrupting something? 'Cause I can always come back."

She nor Mason didn't comment. Without saying a word, Piper stood up, putting some distance between herself and Mason, her eyes narrowing dangerously at the newcomer.

"Okay," Piper said, regaining some of her dignity. Previous questions came back to mind and she asked, "Can someone please tell me where I am? And why I'm here?"

The boy chuckled. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions," he stepped forward, putting his cup on a round table while holding out his hand. "I'm Lance, son of Minerva."

Piper warily shook his hand, glancing down and expecting something to happen.

Amused, Lance raised an eyebrow and snorted. It bothered her that he was just a few inches shorter than her when he couldn't be any older than thirteen. His face dissolved into an austere expression, his jaw hardening. It was strange, seeing such a serious look on his face.

"Mason," he addressed. "Sophia's flight lands in two hours. Why don't you pick her up?"

Piper's eyebrows furrowed. His tone had changed to calm and commanding, contrasting deeply with how he acted two minutes ago.

Mason cast a furtive glance towards Piper. She tried not to meet his gaze as he wordlessly left, car keys jingling in his hands.

Lance turned to Piper, rubbing his hands and clearing his throat. "Now, before I explain anything, I need to know if your willing to work with us, and if you will devote yourself fully to the Creed."

"The Creed?" she asked, bewildered.

"I think you know what I mean." Lance raised a knowing eyebrow at her. Piper's face fell as she realized what he was talking about.

_The hidden room, the robes, Assassins, Connor, right…_ How could she forget about something like that?

"Wait," Piper held up a hand, her fingers rubbing her forehead in exasperation. "So, your telling me that the Assassins are—what? Some sort of gang? And that I'm descended from one of them?" Her voice dripped with dread.

From the way that Lance's nose wrinkled Piper knew that she had offended him.

"No, that's not the right word," Lance said defensively. "More like the Order, or Brotherhood, or _Creed_. And yes, you _are_ descended from 'one of them.'" He air quoted one of them, his eyes never leaving hers. For a kid, he sure seemed unsettling.

"Okay," Piper said gingerly. "So, I'm guessing your a member of the Creed?"

"Yep, I'm an Assassin," he said proudly. "And so are you, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. We're kind of on a tight schedule right now, and Sophia's assuming that you know everything by now but…" he trailed off. He puffed out his cheeks, his cheeky smile returning. "Well, we haven't even got to that part. On top of that, you only have three days to train until the Feast of Lupercal."

Piper's eyes widened. "Wait, what's happening on the Feast of Lupercal?"

Lance's expression darkened. He let the sentence hang, his fingers rubbing against each other nervously.

"I need you to make your decision," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "Are you with us? We're not going to force anything on you if you say no. You can back out now, but we sure as hell need all the help we can get."

Piper didn't know what surprised her the most. The fact that this thirteen year-old boy cursed, or that she was given the option of becoming an Assassin.

"Tick tock." Lance said, tapping the watch on his wrist.

Piper bit her lip. This newfound information both stirred her curiosity and horrified her. She could still walk away from this; she didn't need to get involved. But if she declined, then what? Did it mean she would go back to sulking around the mansion, pushing others away and crying over her dad? Would she wonder about what could have been if she accepted this?

And if she said yes… well, the possibilites were endless. She didn't know what would lie ahead if she took this path. One thing was certain, though; it would mean death at every turn.

_One day I'm going to regret this,_ Piper thought.

She allowed a sigh to escape from her lips. "I'm in."

Lance's smile was so wide it was almost scary.

"This is gonna be so much fun," he said, turning on his heel. He beckoned her towards the kitchen and grabbed his plastic cup before downing it all in one gulp.

"By the way," Lance turned back, a solemn expression on his face. "It's kind of our duty to keep our existence a secret. And we can't risk the Brotherhood being compromised. Especially after what Daniel Cross did."

Piper opened her mouth to ask who he was talking about but closed it. Instead, she put two and two together, figuring out that this Daniel Cross was an Assassin that betrayed them.

"So," Lance elicited, buying back her attention, "if you decide to change your mind, after I tell you everything, I'm gonna have to kill you."

_A/N: It's common for characters in the PJO series to make threats, especially if your a freakin' Assassin so I don't know why you all look so surprised._

_Now, can anyone tell me if Piper is OOC? When I wrote this, I was careful to keep her in-character but this chapter really changes things._

_Another thing I want to know is if these chapters are too short, too long, too dull, not written well... Tell me in the review about what you guys think._

_Sayonara! Till next time!_


	6. Assassin 101

"How's your head?" Lance asked. He guided Piper to the kitchen, gesturing for her to sit next to the island table.

"Fine," she responded.

"Good." Lance smirked. He looked satisfied with this which puzzled her. "We don't want that pretty little head of yours messed up."

Piper frowned. Her attention was averted to the chocolate babka cooking in the oven. She inhaled sharply as the sweet scent filled her nostrils. The intoxicating aroma made her mouth water, her thoughts jizzing with impatience.

Amused, Lance cocked an eyebrow. She ignored him, took a seat on the stool and leaned forward. "Mason's an Assassin, right?"

Lance's expression turned guarded. Something flashed in his eyes._ Suspicion? Guilt? Shock?_ She couldn't tell.

"Yeah," he replied, "why?"

"Well, why did he hit me?" Piper rubbed the side of her head to emphasize her point.

Lance pulled the sunglasses off his head and shrugged. "Dunno, maybe he panicked? You'll have to ask him."

Piper bit the insides of her cheek. There was no reason why Mason should have knocked her out. Then again, he was an Assassin. And admittedly, albeit reluctantly, so was she. Perhaps, he acted on impulse?

"Banana?" Lance held up said banana, his lazy smirk returning. Piper couldn't believe him. A few minutes ago he threatened to kill her and now he was offering her food like they were at a picnic. What baffled her was not his threat but how he said it. Like he was determined to do what was needed.

"No thanks," Piper said, shifting on the stool. She was in no mood for fruits, her stomach clenching as she caught a whiff of the babka being prepared.

"It's not poisoned," Lance scoffed, mistaking her refusal as suspicion. To prove his point, he peeled the banana and chewed on it.

He took the seat across from her, his back to the oven where the babka began to harden. "Okay," Lance said, his mouth still full, "Where to begin?"

Not wanting to waste any time, Piper asked the first question that bothered her since yesterday. "My dad, was he an Assassin?"

"Of course," he answered in a heartbeat. Piper felt like someone had punched her in the gut. Lance noticed her expression and quickly added, "He knew of it since he was a kid but he never trained in the camp, or anything. Your grandpa didn't want that."

This little piece of information didn't help subdue the sick feeling bubbling in her stomach.

Piper gulped. "What camp?"

"There are—" Lance stopped himself, the look on his face losing its frivolous luster and turning somber. "_were_ hundreds of Assassin camps set up around the globe. It's like Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter; they prepare us with what we need to know to protect ourselves." He stopped to take a bite out of his banana, his fingers drumming against the marble table. "But ever since Daniel Cross revealed the location of almost every camp, it forced us into hiding. Not that we haven't done so in the first place."

A silence pervaded amongst the two. Lance had only began explaining about the Assassins but absorbing this information was already taking a toll on her.

The predicament she found herself in reminded her of the time when her dad left her at school. Piper was six; carefree, young, with no worries about the future. It was raining. The school bell rang and kids poured out the front entrance. Piper ran out, umbrella in her hand and a bookbag full of homework. She looked around for her dad, only finding a sea of unfamiliar faces. The area cleared and pretty soon, she stood alone, in the rain, a burden on her back with no one to turn to for help.

She found it odd that after so many years that memory was still vivid. Sometimes, she could still feel the heavy straps of the bookbag on her shoulders, the rain drumming against her umbrella. That was how she felt right now. Alone, lost, and helpless.

First, Jason abandoned her, then her dad died in a car accident. Afterwards, Jason chose not to show up at her hospital bed just to see if she was fine, and now Piper was left to deal with _this_.

_Too late to turn back._

Piper reached up to where the slick wood of the carved thunderbird brushed her collarbone. "My great grandma, Aribelle…"

"She was an Assassin, too." Lance affirmed. Piper nodded. She suspected just as much but she only wanted to confirm it.

Feeling content, she asked, "Okay, who's Connor Kenway?"

Lance gave her a _you've got to kidding me_ look. "Your the descendant of one of the greatest Assassins and your asking me who he is?"

Piper felt her cheeks flush in embarassment. "Well, if you would enlighten me on why he's one of the 'greatest Assassins,' I'd understand."

"Shucks, 'course." Completely unfazed, he took another bite of his banana. "In 1763, the Assassins meant to protect the Thirteen Colonies fell apart. They were captured, tortured, and killed by Templars." He shook his head indignantly. "However, the Templars left the Mentor, Achilles Davenport, alive. Don't know why, though, it's a noob move when you think about it."

"A _what_ move?"

Lance waved her off. "Achilles Davenport trained your ancestor, Ratonhnhaké:ton, or Connor as he was mostly known as. Connor rebuild the Brotherhood, and single-handedly assassinated the Templars responsible." His expression was stoic but Piper could hear the sheer admiration seeping in his tone.

Lance smiled, his eyes twinkling. "So, you can imagine how important your lineage is."

From the way that Lance summed up Connor's life, Piper didn't feel important. She felt lost and broken and tired… and hungry.

"What is a Templar?" she asked, pushing aside her thoughts.

Lance looked like he just aged an extra ten years. The circles under his eyes darkened. "Our sworn enemies. We've been fighting them for centuries. They're basically our arch nemesis; kill on sight, do not trust, all that cheese."

Piper knit her eyebrows. She couldn't help but think, _This kid was the son of Minerva?_

"Recently, the Templars created this company called Abstergo," he told her. "They use that facility to house kidnapped Assassins and uncover artifacts from the First Civilization."

"The First Civilization?"

Lance sighed, and muttered something about too much explaining under his breath. "Those Who Came Before, or the Precursors. They…created us."

"What do you mean _us_? As in humans?" Lance nodded. "But didn't the gods create us?"

Lance pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's very conflicting, I know. We live in a world with Greek/Roman gods and then we got Those Who Came Before who are considered as gods.

"Oh, and get this: the three known representatives of the First Civ are named Juno, Minerva, and Jupiter."

Piper's jaw dropped so low she was afraid it would plummet to the floor.

"Hey, close your mouth." Lance instructed, throwing his banana peel in the garbage. She obeyed.

When Piper found her voice, she asked, "They couldn't be the Roman gods, could they?"

Lance shrugged. "We have every reason to think that they are, but Sophia said that we shouldn't assume without some hard evidence."

Piper tapped her finger on the table, her eyes glazing over the babka in the oven. "If the First Civilization came before us, do you think that they created the gods?" She asked, genuinely curious. "Or is it the other way around?"

"I don't know. No one does."

His tone made it clear. _Drop it._

For a kid, he sure seemed intimidating. This troubled Piper to the point that she considered whether he was even a child to begin with.

Her mouth opened to ask the next question when a ring from the oven resounded.

"Oh, goodie." Lance said, rubbing his palms together. "It's done. Grab two plates. We're gonna eat downstairs."

_Line Break_

Piper didn't want to go downstairs. Her gut feeling sent tremors down her spine, warning her that this was a trap. Part of her still believed that Lance would turn on her and pull out a knife. The other, and more rational, part argued that he wouldn't. She would fight back if he did; try to talk things out, but she had little faith that she would succeed. She didn't know what he was capable of and she knew better than to underestimate.

Besides, she was weaponless, hungry, and she didn't have the slightest clue as to where she was. Forget about running. A _turtle_ could have walked faster than her.

Nonetheless, she followed Lance down the white carpeted staircase. Two plastic plates in her hand with a pair of table knives and forks in the other. In front of her, Lance held the babka up to his face, inhaling the sweet scent.

As they reached the bottom, Lance flicked the light switch. Piper's eyes adjusted to the brightness and she was welcomed by a large room. It reminded her of the aircraft carrier in that movie, The Avengers.

An impressive set of display of screen monitors, stainless steel desks, and row of computers were aligned. To her right was a view of the forest and a sliding door that led outside. A small conference table with three seats was set up in the middle of the room. The wall was decorated with bulletin boards full of maps and photos. One map had red pins embedded in certain areas all over the globe with yellow sticky notes scribbled with someone's messy handwriting.

But the thing that stood out the most was a white flag with the Assassin insignia pinned on the wall.

Piper didn't know whether to be impressed or mortified. Even after her quest for saving the world, there were still some things that managed to surprise her.

"Welcome, Piper, to our base of operation." Lance proclaimed. He led her to a table empty of any documents or books, and set down the babka.

"So," Lance said, bringing up two chairs. "Have you ever seen strange things?"

Piper resisted the urge to roll her eyes and demand that he be more specific. Being a demigod meant that you witnessed strange things everyday. Instead, she began cutting a piece of the babka, placing it on her plate and taking a big bite out of it with her fork. Much to her delight, the sweet treat satiated her tastebuds and she felt a smile creep onto her lips.

"Like what?" she asked.

"Like where everything's a darkish blue?"

She blinked. _Her blue vision…_ _Is that what he's talking about that?_

Piper swallowed. "Yes. Just recently."

Lance nodded. "That's called Eagle Vision, sometimes White Eye. Their a gift from the First Civ."

"What does it do exactly?"

"It's a sixth sense. It helps us distinguish friend from foe. Sometimes it lets us locate our target and hidden objects that people wouldn't normally see. Every human has the potential for it, but the bloodline of those who had interbred with the creators hold a greater concentration, and they're more likely to exhibit the ability."

Piper understood only half of what he said. Sitting next to him, she couldn't help but feel stupid.

"When you discovered the hidden room in your dad's office…" Lance prompted, "You used Eagle Vision, didn't you?"

Startled, Piper choked on the piece of babka. Lance patted her back, rubbing in circles before patting her again.

"You good?"

Piper nodded. "I'm sorry for ever doubting you."

Lance just gave her a cheeky smile. However, in an instant, his grin disappeared. "Anyway, there are a couple things you need to know about the Order and how we operate."

Piper hesitated. "Yeah, about that. Do I _have _to kill anybody?"

Lance laughed. "If you asked that back then, they would have kicked you out." He shook his head. "But this is the twenty-first century, we're not gonna go running around and kill everybody we see. Times has passed; things have changed. You could say that we no longer think like our brothers before us."

Feeling somewhat relieved, she nodded.

"But," he added seriously, "we have yet to resolve our differences with the Templars. So, it leaves us with the choice of either assassinating them, or talking it out." He looked at her with grim hope. "The latter which we haven't become accustomed to."

Piper stabbed her fork into the babka and stuffed it in her mouth. "I'm confused. Why are the Templars against the Assassins?"

"It's the way we function," Lance explained. "Our Order strives to maintain peace. The Templars want to create a 'perfect world' using order and control."

Piper frowned. "Like world domination?"

"I wouldn't really describe it like that. More like communism."

"But I don't understand. Hasn't anyone stopped to think about putting aside their differences? Why can't we work together instead of against each other?"

Lance gave her a sad smile. "Connor thought the same way, too, with his dad."

Piper's brow furrowed. "What do you mean _his_ _dad_?"

"Connor's dad, Haytham; he was a Templar."

Piper felt her eyes bulge out of its sockets.

"Well, according to what we've researched, Haytham was actually an Assassin-turned-Templar," Lance mused, fiddling with his fork. He hadn't touched the babka, though she couldn't blame him. This talk about Assassins made her lose her appetite.

"That can happen?" Piper asked quietly. "Assassins switching sides?"

Lance looked up. "Oh yeah, all the time. Templars can come over to our side, too. Sometimes, they work for both…"

Piper didn't want to pry into what he was indicating but there was definitely some history behind what he was hinting at. She made a mental note to ask about it later.

She decided to change the subject. "So, I'm guessing there are rules."

"And you guessed right." Lance cleared his throat and held up a finger. "First tenet: stay your blade from the flesh of the innocent," he recited. She briefly wondered if he had to repeat this to himself numerous times. "It just means don't kill any citizens."

Piper couldn't agree more.

"Second: hide in plain sight, be one with the crowd. Pretty self-explanatory.

"And lastly: _never_ compromise the Brotherhood."

As he said the last tenet, he looked askance at her as if he expected her to protest. Piper squirmed under his gaze, feeling like she was being examined under a microscope.

"Why would we need to hide in plain sight?" Piper queried.

"Part of the training. Assassins mostly used stealth. It's considered our greatest weapon, and we have to devote ourself to mastering it. Back then, when it was normal to carry weapons, Assassins would sneak up on a guard and knife them on the spot before slipping into the crowd."

"That's crazy."

Lance snorted. "You want to hear something that's _real_ crazy? Around the 12th Century, every member of the Brotherhood had to cut off their right ring finger."

A grotesque image of a disfigured finger appeared in Piper's mind. She shivered at the unpleasant picture. "Why?" She asked.

Lance's lips curled into a devilish grin. He held out his hand, jerked his arm and out of his sleeve popped a knife.

Piper covered her mouth, swallowing back the scream that climbed up her throat.

"_This_ is why." Lance informed, reveling in her frightened posture. The blade was thin but sharp and long, reflecting dangerously against the light. "Their technology wasn't advanced, so the Hidden Blade went through the ring finger when they used it. It's been modified centuries ago, so no cutting any fingers." He promised. He retracted the blade which made a ktch sound.

She didn't know how to react to that. It shouldn't have surprised her, though. The legion didn't hesitate when they engaged with the enemy. Lance was a Roman demigod but he was only a kid. A kid running around with a knife up his sleeve.

Piper couldn't help but stare at his arm. "Do I have to use one of those?"

Lance narrowed his eyes. "Only if you want to. There are nonviolent Assassins who only attack when threatened. You could carry one just in case."

Piper felt uncomfortable about the subject. She couldn't imagine herself carrying a Hidden Blade; poised and ready to assassinate. It made her feel like she was part of the Mafia.

"You said something about training for the Feast of Lupercal," Piper mentioned, her gaze falling to her lap. "What's happening on that day?"

"Abstergo plans to invade Camp Jupiter."

For a second, Piper thought Lance developed a female voice but it was too real, and harsh, to be mimicked.

Turning around, she found a woman standing not too far behind Piper. She immediately felt fear coil up her body. The woman's dark brown hair was pulled back by a clip and she had a ring piercing over her right eyebrow. Somehow, she managed to look like a professional businesswoman and one of those action heroines in the movies.

There was something unnerving about her. Maybe it was her eyes that glinted a cold gray blue, or the menacing aura that surrounded her, or the disapproving frown that graced her nude lips.

_Or,_ Piper thought, her heart beating at an erratic pace, _maybe it was because there was fresh blood on her shirt._

Mason appeared at the stairs, winded and completely out of breath. He, too, had blood splattered on his clothes. His face was smeared with crimson mixed with dirt and a stray leaf was stuck to his shirt.

"We need to get out of here," he announced.

"Sophia?" Lance said, his eyes gleaming with concern. For once, he sounded scared.

"Lance," the woman, Sophia, said, maintaining her impassive mask. "Pack whatever we need. Don't bring anything heavy."

Lance hesitated. "They found us?" Sophia's jaw tightened. Slowly, she nodded.

Quickly recovering, Piper couldn't help but ask, "Who's they?"

The older woman scowled at her. "And you," she said, addressing Piper like she was a servant. "better contribute. Everyone, no dawdling. Let's move."

Piper's mouth hung open. Dumbstruck by what just happened, Mason instructed her to grab a garbage bag from upstairs.

"Mason," Piper whispered, knowing that he would be more helpful, "what's going on?"

There was a brief pause before he answered, "Did Lance tell you about the Templars?"

Piper nodded.

"Well, they found our location," he explained. "Sophia and I killed—"

Suddenly Piper felt sick.

"—the agents following us but they already called for backup. We have to leave now. Like _right_ now."

Maybe Piper was still grasping the concept of this whole Assassin gig but she could sense danger. She jogged upstairs and grabbed a plastic garbage bag from the kitchen and went back down. Sophia briskly walked by, not sparing her a glance.

Piper stood by Mason, helping him shove documents, folders, notepads, and leather bound books in the garbage bag. A boy with dark skin ran into the room and started taking down the maps on the wall and rolling them up in tube-like cases. Lance was busying himself with the computers, skimming through what looked like research and top secret files and transfering them to his Mickey Mouse flash drive before deleting them and moving on to the next computer.

"Piper," Mason said anxiously. He opened one of the drawers from a desk, found a key, and handed it to her. "Go inside that closet and give me the box."

Piper wanted to ask what box, figuring that there may be more than one but Mason was already moving towards the stairs to grab another plastic bag. Piper sprinted over to the closet, almost tripping on a wire, and unlocked the door.

She was glad she didn't ask what box he was asking because there was only one to begin with. It stood there, on the carpet floor, making her wonder what was inside. Her first instinct was to grab it and run but as she jogged forward, she felt it. A strange tugging sensation hit her so hard that she halted in her movements. Whatever that was making her feel this way, it was no doubt that it was coming from the white box.

Piper caught her breath, the hustling of Lance and the other boy seemed distant now. A stream of light filtered in, wrapping her in the dark closet. She knelt down and gingerly lifted the cover.

What lay inside was beyond anything Piper could imagine. It was some sort of sphere, about the size of a football. A glowing brilliant gold illuminated from it, seeping from the intricate designs curved around the ball. She reached out to grab it and immediately, Piper felt power. She felt like she held the world in the palm of her hands.

The back of her neck tingled. A wave of chills ran down her spine. She gazed into the sphere, hypnotized by the essence emitting from the object.

The feeling diminished just as a hand clasped onto her shoulder and snatched the sphere away from her.

Startled, Piper looked around as if she just woke up from a dream. Mason placed the glowing sphere back into the box, simultaneously lifting her off the floor. He dragged her back to the basement, similar to how an adult would hold a child's ear when they were caught doing something they weren't supposed to do.

"Mason… what is that?"

"I'll explain later," he said curtly.

"Mason," Piper said, allowing charmspeak to flow into her words. "What is that?"

Mason paused, clearly tranced by her charmspeak. "It's…" His chest heaved and his mouth blew out air. He blinked multiple times and shook his head. "Piper, not now. I promise I'll explain."

Piper couldn't believe it. Almost no one—besides, gods—could fight against her charmspeak. _He must have a strong will,_ she thought dejectedly.

Mason turned to the dark skinned boy who was carrying a shipping box. If Piper didn't know any better, she would have thought they were moving out like any regular mortal.

"Mason," the boy said. His eyes were a strange reddish brown color and the left side of his cheek had a small cut. He had no shirt, just a denim vest showing off his flat belly. His arms were ripped though, and his legs were tanned and muscled. "Where do I put these?" he asked.

"I need you and Julian to pack these boxes in the van, and bring them to our other hideout," Mason told him calmly. "Take Lance with you."

From where he stood, Lance's head snapped up. He was taking down the Assassin flag from the wall, folding it perfectly and storing it in his backpack.

"What?" he asked incredulously. He scratched his ear as if he thought he didn't hear Mason right.

"Go with them," Mason ordered.

"What about you guys?"

The expression that crossed Lance's face was a mix between worry and shock. One thing Piper was certain about Lance, he wouldn't leave a man behind.

Mason, having forgot Piper, turned to the dark skinned boy. "Roberto, take Lance with you. We'll meet you there."

Roberto was reluctant to leave. Piper could see that he wanted to argue. That he wanted to say, _No! Come with us!_ She would have done the same, even if she barely knew these people.

When Roberto and Lance were out of earshot, Piper asked, "Why can't we go with them?"

Mason didn't meet her eyes. "Our work is more important. Besides, never compromise the Brotherhood."

_So you're gonna make me go down with you?_ Piper thought. It was selfish to think like that but as she reflected on his words, the dedication he put in for the Order wasnadmiring.

Mason turned to her. "Here." He handed her a folded white sweater, runnings shoes along with some sort of cylinder black object that was as wide as her arm. "Put these on."

Mason picked up the white box, his hand on top of the cover. His green eyes fixed on her as if he expected Piper to rob a bank.

She scowled. Was it a crime to be curious about such things? Whatever that sphere was it must have been valuable enough to be locked in a closet.

Piper sighed, and turned the black object that Mason gave her in her hands. Her eyes widened as she realized that it was a Hidden Blade. Immediately, her stomach did flip-flops, twisting and winding until she felt the urge to throw up.

Fortunately, she didn't embarrass herself by puking. The Templars could arrive in any minute, and she couldn't afford to be sick right now.

She looked down at the weapon that was presented to her. Lance's words ringed in her ears. _You could carry one just in case._

Hesitantly, she strapped the Hidden Blade to her right arm and tied the shoes on which were a little big but she didn't complain. She examined her arm and was impressed to see that the weapon was concealed behind the fabric of her sleeve.

Without warning, the sound of gunfire ripped through the air. Shouts of men followed, doors were being kicked down and heavy footsteps pounded from above.

_Never in my life have I dealt with something like this,_ Piper thought, the insides of her body running cold. Fighting monsters, facing revengeful titans, encountering crazy gods, and almost drowning were life-threatening situations that she had grown used to. She expected it.

But this… this was something she didn't know firsthand.

Sophia came crashing down the stairs. She didn't look harmed but the wild look in their eyes were enough to convey what she feared.

"Go, go, go!" She yelled, pushing Piper toward the sliding door. Naturally, Piper broke the glass, and found herself hitting hard cement.

If Piper had a choice, she'd curl into a ball and lie there all day. The sound of bullets echoing through the house convinced her to get back on her feet and start running.

Piper wasn't the best runner but when it involved her life, or Jason's, (she tried to stick that thought down the drain) she could run for miles and not even know it. Trees passed her, they were nothing but a blur. Small sticks wacked her in the face but she didn't stop. Her feet pounded against the ground in long, heavy strides. A fallen tree hindered her path but she swiftly jumped over it and continued running.

Where she was going, she had no idea.

She considered turning back to help Mason and Sophia but relented. What good would she do? They were trained Assassins who probably spent their entire life practicing their skills. If those two couldn't shake off the Templars (or finish them) what chance did Piper have?

And what about Lance? Did he get out in time? Is he being tailed? She only met him but he was a kid. Kids needed protection.

She didn't stop sprinting, not even when she heard the deafening sound of a detonation setting off. The house was far behind but she felt the heat of the explosion. Piper prayed that Mason and Sophia got out in time.

Her trek to nowhere dragged on. Her lungs burned, the sun glared down at her in agonizing hot rays of light. Sweat coated her back, making her clothes stick to her skin like glue. Adrenaline coursed through her, forcing her to keep moving against the protest of her aching body.

Slowing down to a jog, her legs gave way and she collapsed. Piper leaned against the nearest tree, taking deep breathes. She slid down, her bottom hitting the ground. The air smelled of… well, like the forest. Musky and full of scent-markings. She hoped there weren't any bears in the area. She had enough to deal with.

As her heavy breathing subsided, Piper strained her ears, listening for anyone. She wrapped herself in a fetal position, hoping that the trees would camouflage her. The white sweater didn't help. She stuck out like a sore thumb.

How long had it been since she sat there? It felt like hours but the dull chirping of cicadas would have proven her wrong.

Her body quivered. What was wrong with her? She faced monsters, battled with gods, and even went head-to-head with a giant. This should have been nothing.

But it wasn't. Truth was, she was scared. Her life balanced on the fine line between death and life, but the imminent promise of suffering the wrath of the Templars frightened her. She didn't know how they operated but she imagined a group of people, huddling around her as they asked her questions while electrocuting her. There were some things worse than death.

The rustling of leaves interrupted the serene ambiance of the forest. Piper quietly sucked in some air, pulled the hood over her face and bit her bottom lip. The steps were closer now, coming from her left.

_Please be a bear,_ Piper thought.

Feeling her stomach fill with dread, she jerked her arm and the Hidden Blade popped out. A layer of sweat covered her forehead, her heart palpitating. _It's what anyone would do to survive_, Piper told herself sternly.

Slowly, she rised from her crouched position. Her heart hammered loudly against her chest, the beat setting Piper on overdrive. She clenched her fist, took a deep breath and jumped out of her hiding spot to engage the enemy.

Piper wanted to cry out in relief. There was no one. But the tingling in the back of her neck caused her to search her surroundings.

The padding of something stirred up once again. Piper froze.

Brownie emerged from a bush, trotting over to Piper with his tongue sticking out. The russet colored Shiba Inu panted and looked up at Piper excitedly as if to say, _Where's my treat?_ Piper felt her defenses falter, the tension in her shoulders lessening to a small degree. She knelt down, and scratched Brownie behind his ears.

Attached to his collar—_when did he get one?_—a brown pouch hung loosely. Piper squinted her eyes, and much to her surprise, an Assassin symbol was strewn onto it.

_Mason,_ she thought.

Before Piper had time to confiscate the pouch, something large and heavy crashed into her.

Several things happened at once. Brownie barked. The earsplitting sound of a bullet went off. A scream escaped from Piper while blood stained her face.

The California afternoon sharpened Piper's senses. The world turned red just as the pistol pressed against the side of her head.

* * *

_AN: Special thanks to __**pjato-lover**__, and __**Savvy the Hunter of Artemis**__ for reviewing. And thank you, __**CarryOnMyWaywardSonKansas**__ for following._

_I love the fact that you guys are favoriting and following. But the lack of reviews kind of leaves me unmotivated. Makes me wonder if all my efforts are being wasted._

_I created a poem about Piper which is kind of associated with this story. If you guys have time, check it out._

_So, since this is a Piper fic and all, does it seem right that she and Jason get back together? Yeah, he was a jerk for ignoring Piper but does anybody see that they still have a future? Or should Piper just forget about him? Tell me what you guys think._

_On a sidenote, I have midterms this whole week so no quick updates. Next chapter may take a little longer to post._

_Review please! Criticisms are welcome! And see you guys next time! =D_


	7. First Kill

It wasn't Piper's fault that she had so many sounds ingrained into her memory. They rang like church bells; loud and unable to forget. Those sounds were the worst. Like the crack Jason's head made when that brick was thrown at him or the sound of her dad's car crashing…

But none of that could compare to the sound that Brownie made.

A pile of thick blood was oozing towards Piper like a river. It was everywhere. On the dirt, over the leaves…but mostly on her dog.

She felt her body run cold. She stopped squirming from underneath whomever that was pinning her against the floor. Her eyes focused on Brownie, his patch of fur ruined and red from the bullet that penetrated his small body. His glassy eyes, a deep brown, reminding Piper so much of her father's sad irises, were wide open.

The edges of Piper's eyes brimmed with tears. Had it only been a week since the car accident? Recovering from something like that would take time. But now, seeing her dog lie on the dirt, whether she could overcome this ordeal was debatable. Two deaths… and she was a witness to both.

Something snapped inside Piper. The feeling was no stranger to her. It was how she felt when she watched that white van drive away after crashing into her father's Porsche. It burned deeply, flickering dangerously and increasing a hundredfold. Her undying thirst for revenge was waiting to be quenched.

A low growl resonated from her throat. "What have you done?" Piper demanded.

The pistol pressed harder against the side of her head. Piper could distinctly hear the tumblers in the gun move to the next slot.

"Be quiet or I'll blow your brains out." The voice that belonged to the man was raspy and slightly accented. It sounded French. Piper craned her neck as far as it would allow her and observed her adversary with appraising eyes. Olive skin, hazel eyes that glinted maliciously like a mad scientist, and dirty blonde hair. He wore black from head to toe. A mask covered his nose and mouth giving the impression of an adult trying (and failing) to be a ninja.

Piper gritted her teeth. She was in an uncomfortable position, her cheek compressed against the dirt and her left arm was held back by the rough but firm grip of her attacker. The man's heavy weight kept her from escaping, and she realized that she couldn't stall and expect someone to come rescue her.

She was on her own.

Piper felt the pit of her stomach twist. She squeezed her eyes shut. The urge to throw up stirred once again. If she resorted to killing this guy, could she do it?

She looked back at Brownie. The pup was killed by the hands of this man and he didn't so much as turn a hair when he pulled the trigger. Rage boiled up inside her; the inner conflict about her ethics gradually washing away.

**"Get. Off. Of. Me."** Piper commanded, adding every ounce of charmspeak into her voice.

Much to her disbelief, and dismay, the man chuckled, his hold on her wrist tightening before twisting her arm. Pain shot up her limb, heat diffusing in her chest as she cried out.

_Gods, I'm losing my touch,_ Piper thought, biting her bottom lip.

"You cannot manipulate me, Piper McLean_,_" the man sneered, his tone laced with contempt. "Mother presented you with charmspeak but she gave me a strong will. And I doubt you have the strength to endure what's to come."

She refused to allow the fear to show on her face. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her scared. Instead, she reflected on his words and calmly asked, "Mother?"

The man chortled in a sinister, almost maniacal, way. "Anton Veniam," he said proudly. "Son of Aphrodite, at your service."

_"What!?"_ she screeched. Anton reeled backwards at her sudden outburst. "But you're a demigod! A _Greek_ one!"

"And?" he prompted.

"Your my half-brother! We're on the same side!"

Anton grunted. "Are we? You bear the mark of an Assassin, whereas I was born a Templar."

"But—" Piper faltered. It didn't occur to her that there were Templar demigods. What if one of her friends was a Templar? Would that mean she'd have to "silence" them? The sheer notion was pushed back in the depths of her mind.

What if she had to kill Anton? He was her half-brother but with the blood of a Templar. Piper wasn't even sure that she could take a life. Would her mom forgive her if she killed him? Or worse, would she punish her?

"It doesn't feel so good, does it?" Anton said, shaking his head. "We tried to be diplomatic but because of Desmond Miles, you have left us no choice."

"I don't even know who Desmond Miles is! Or what he did!" She protested. Piper was frantic now. Was Anton going to punish her for whatever this Desmond guy did?

"It doesn't matter," Anton hissed in her ear. "You will be treated like animals because that is how your kind has acted for centuries. We will hunt you down and kill you. Even if we have to tear down the sky, we'll do it."

That struck a chord inside Piper. "Hunt us down?" she asked slowly.

For a second, she thought he meant "your kind" as Native Americans. Her nationality was always a touchy subject. Half-white, half-Cherokee. Sometimes, she tried to be different until it was rendered useless. It wasn't until that she began carrying eagle feathers (_real ones, mind you)_ that she fully accepted herself.

Anton couldn't have been talking about any of this since he was most likely referring to the Assassins. However, if what she thought was true then that meant…

Anton seemed to read her mind because he snickered. The pistol traveled to her cheek, the cold barrel grazing her skin. "_Oui_, that's right. We killed your father. Unfortunately, you didn't die along with him but that will soon change."

The air went still as the forest came to a sudden stop. A group of chirping insects died down, the melodious tune of a hummingbird drowned out. Piper felt a chill run up her spine, her breathing pitched and her mind went numb. Her body quivered incessantly as she tried to control herself. Anton's smug grin suggested that he thought she was crying. But she wasn't. No tears threatened to spill.

If Anton hadn't kept her pinned down, she would have killed him. Straight-up. No hesitation. Just pierce his heart with the Hidden Blade and be done with it.

_They killed him,_ Piper thought, her eyes stinging. _The Templars murdered my dad. They staged the whole accident. It was all on purpose._

_Oh, but they made a mistake. One **fatal** mistake._

_They left me alive._

Silently, she swore on the Styx that she would avenge her dad. She would find those who killed him and personally see to it that they were condemned for their crimes.

Starting with Anton.

The sky was clear of any clouds but thunder rumbled loudly overhead. Anton seemed alarmed by this as he stared upwards. His vice-like grip on her wrist loosening just the slightest but Piper saw her opportunity.

The Hidden Blade ejected from the bracer so that she gripped the hilt like it was a regular knife. [1] She thanked the gods that Anton didn't pay attention to her free arm, the one with the concealed weapon, and stabbed his leg.

Anton howled, disturbing several birds in the region. Piper twisted the knife, her arm shaking, and pushed until it was hilt deep within his thigh. She pulled the knife out and rolled so that she was no longer underneath him. The knife returned inside the bracer as she got up. Her knees felt like jelly, her heart beat irregularly but she forced herself to stay on her feet.

Just to be safe, Piper kicked his pistol away and watched as it disappeared behind a bush.

Anton, cursing and swearing in French, glared at her. His hazel eyes were murderous. Despite the wound in his leg, he lashed out at her.

Silently thanking Annabeth for the self-defense lessons, Piper parried the blow with her wrist and punched him square in the face. She lifted her leg up and kneed his stomach, causing him to bend over and grunt. Hearing a satisfying crack, Piper pulled back her foot and kicked him.

Again, the bloodlust just came to her. The world was coated in red, her every action reflexive and responding only to her body. All those times where Piper wanted to hit somebody, all her pent up anger was unleashed in a flurry of punches and kicks.

She didn't see the kick that was coming her way.

Her stomach exploded in a flash of white pain. Anton repeatedly kicked her with his good leg, his combat boots hard to the core. How he could stand with an injured leg, she didn't know.

Piper backed up, narrowly escaping his kicks while clutching her stomach. She needed to get out of this. Anton was favoring his good leg but without treatment, the wound could get infected. It irked her that he didn't take the chance to run away. She would have let him go but no, he just had to stay and fight.

And it wasn't like Piper could leave. She tried not to glance at Brownie but she didn't forget the pouch that was attached to his collar. If she risked grabbing it, Anton would take the chance to kill her and she had no plans on joining her dad just yet.

To add more complications, Anton unsheathed a pocket knife, twirling it expertly while smiling widely like the Joker. The sight made Piper's stomach spiral.

He swiped at her, the air whistling as the knife aimed for her throat. Had it not been for her demigod training, she would have died more than once. She dodged his attacks, stumbling backwards and losing her footing. Her butt hit the sharp end of a rock and a wave of pain erupted in her back. The sensation felt like someone had tapped her spinal cord with an electric wire. It was unpleasant, to say the least.

Piper was quick to react and rolled just as the knife lodged itself into the dirt, the place where she was once. A bead of sweat fell between her eyebrows. She couldn't help but admire his unwavering tenacity though, if only he was pointing his blade at someone else she would have actually liked him.

Anton changed tactics. His knife went to his other hand and Piper didn't miss how he reached down to rub his leg wound. Instead of swiping at her, he pushed forward and aimed for her face.

The Hidden Blade ejected from her sleeve. Their blades met, steel grinding against steel. Piper's arm tightened as it thrusted forward, losing contact with his knife as she kicked him in the abdomen. He made a motion to stab her but she rolled out in time. Without fully comprehending what she was doing, she thrusted her arm forward and slipped the knife through his back.

Anton's blood felt like rain as it splattered on her face. Her half-brother fell down with a thump, his knife clattering to the floor and skittering towards a pile of leaves.

Piper's mind went blank as her legs gave way, her knees hitting the dirt. The adrenaline that coursed through her ebbed away, diminishing until she was left with nothing but regret. Her mouth was dry, her heart climbing its way to her throat. The air tasted like acid, unbreathable and poisonous.

What had she done? Wasn't this the sort of thing she wanted to avoid? She couldn't resort to killing people for revenge. It wasn't right. Yet the memory of her father refilled her mind, reminding her that Abstergo planned his death. Maybe this was how things were meant to be.

Something grabbed her wrist. Piper was jolted back to reality as Anton yanked her arm.

"You are a fool if you think this is how it should be," he said, coughing out blood. He removed his mask, revealing his full nude lips. "The Templars and Assassins play a dangerous game. It brings nothing but chaos. Killing me didn't solve anything, yeah? After all, violence only leads to bloodshed."

Piper didn't respond. She was beyond shocked to see that he could still speak, much less breath. It made her insides twist in revolt.

"You Assassins are blinded by your ideals to see the truth. And you think we're the bad guys?" The older man shook his head. "You need only to look at yourselves to find the enemy." Then, to her horror, Anton smiled, his teeth caked in blood. "But it takes a killer to know a killer."

Anton dissolved into a fit of coughs. His grip on her wrist remained strong even after his body went still.

Minutes flew by but Piper stayed where she was, planted by her half-brother's side, unable to recollect herself. Light turned to dark, her body cast shadows of her hunched figure. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, Anton's final words embedded into her memory, echoing until she found herself repeating them. Tentatively, she reached forward and closed his eyes. His ice-cold skin sent goosebumps traveling up her arm.

She would have sat there all day, thinking back on what she did. She wanted to say something to him, to put his soul at rest but her throat closed up everytime.

The distant voice of shouting men reverberated in the forest.

_Get up,_ Piper told herself. Her legs felt like lead but she obeyed.

Brownie was where she left him. She swallowed the huge lump in her throat and checked the pouch attached to his collar. Inside, there was a note with an address. She recognized the location; Paradise Cove, it was a half an hour walk from her house.

She removed her sweater, grimacing at the amount of blood that painted the white fabric, and wrapped Brownie's body. Her vision clouded with tears as she stroked the pup's muzzle. She closed his eyelids, kissed his forehead, and muttered a silent prayer to the gods.

Wiping off any remains of blood on her face, Piper scooped up Brownie and left the scene. Not once did she glance back.

* * *

Street lights illuminated her figure as a soft breeze rustled her hair and tickled the base of her neck. The sun already disappeared, replacing the sky with a black hole that seemed to contrast deeply with the space in Piper's decomposed heart. Walking for an hour was a result of aching feet and a growling stomach. None of this, however, impeded her for she was wide awake.

Lance had informed her that stealth was a skill that all Assassins _must_ master. So far, with everything that happened in the past hour, she was unobtrusive as she padded softly on the sidewalk. People gawked at her, several glanced inquisitively at the white bundle in her arms and Piper paled whenever there eyes widened. Maybe they recognized her as the daughter of Tristan McLean, or maybe they saw the dead dog cradled in her arms. Fortunately, no one dared to approach her.

She kept her head down, only looking up to glare at someone staring at her and watch them walk away. Piper used Eagle Vision to analyze the many faces in the crowd, expecting an enemy to loom amongst them and was content to see that there were none.

Much to her relief, and utter confusion, the hideout was actually in plain sight where a lot of activity was going on outside. She wondered if the Assassins chose this place for its publicity, or because they couldn't find another safe house.

Checking the address once more, her pace quickened to the small white house. Thankfully, no mortals paid her any attention. She lifted her fist and rapped the door three times.

Not too long, the door opened but slightly. There was only darkness but she saw the chain which prevented the door from fully opening.

A perky voice asked, "What's the password?"

If this was suppose to be a joke, Piper didn't find it funny. She was on the brink of collapsing from exhaustion. She was aggravated and distraught and near the point of breaking down in tears.

"Lance," she snarled. "Open the door."

As always, she didn't realize she used charmspeak until Lance slipped the chain off and opened the door.

He pouted at her. "Y'know, it's not nice to manipu—are you holding a dead dog?!"

His announcement didn't go unnoticed. Behind Piper, those who were nearby caught wind of it and they were now pointing at her. Piper could feel sweat dripping down her back. She glowered at the boy in front of her and pushed him aside to step in.

Another familiar face entered her field of vision. Mason's hair was a damp, a red toothbrush stuck out of his mouth and his beige shorts were unzipped. She would have flushed at the sight but the color in her face drained long time.

He searched her body, his eyes finding Brownie in her hands. His expression turned to horror and wordlessly grabbed Piper.

Mason led her to the couch, setting her down and gently prying her fingers from Brownie's corpse. He gazed into her eyes. She gazed back. Tears fell from Piper's eyes. Without hesitation, she hugged him.

Mason let her sob, patting the back of her head. She gripped the side of his shirt, her tears spilling over his clothes. She found comfort in his arms; it provided protection, warmth and a sense of familiarity.

It seemed that everyone she loved was leaving her. It wasn't fair. They were all gone, whether by a bullet or the force of another car or they just simply upped and walked away. They each held a special place in her heart but now their space was replaced with an indefinite black hole.

She wanted Jason despite her conflicting feelings for him. She wanted to scream and punch and kiss him. He always had a way of making her forget her troubles.

And Brownie… yes, he was a dog but he was _her_ dog even if she recently adopted him.

But most of all, she longed for her dad.

Her dad… so compassionate and full of life. He was her best friend, her shoulder to lean on and she loved him from the core of her heart. Piper knew she would have to say goodbye to him one day and reminisce all the good times they shared together. Alas, her memories were tainted by a flash of pain, every ache in her heart intensifying as the image of her dead dad reappeared in her mind.

She wanted to see his smiling face, not in memory but in the flesh, to see it with her own eyes and not her mind. She wanted to see his eyes, sad but shining bright like the sun. She wanted to play three questions and listen to him retell Cherokee legends in that calm and soothing voice. Was that too much to ask?

The sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted her lugubrious mood.

Mason pulled away but he kept an arm around her, almost protectively. Piper was grateful for him. His support made her feel less alone.

"Piper," Sophia said, her tone spoke of irritation despite her impassive countenance. Piper didn't hear her walk in the room but the older woman was seated on the armchair as though she was sitting there the entire time. She probably was but Piper scarcely noticed.

"So, glad you could join us," Sophia said with false enthusiasm.

* * *

_AN: Not the best way to end this but I decided to update anyway._

_Special thanks to **XxMidnightSolsticexX, pjato-lover, kingawesome, books R fun,** and **Savvy the Hunter of Artemis** for reviewing. Most of you have stuck with me from chapter one, so you guys are awesome. And thank you, **XxMidnightSolsticexX** for favoriting! I'm glad you like this so far. Also, thanks to **Beaulover** and **Sobekton** for following._

_kingawesome: yes, that was the Apple of Eden. I'm curious to know why you haven't played any of the games. Unless your like me, who just watches other people play it :D_

_There's so many suggestions as to what Piper should do about her love life. I'll stick to what I originally planned which is actually what most of you suspect. There will definitely be someone who has relations with the Templars and this person will play a big part. Who? Heh, it'll be revealed in a few chapters._

_[1] Piper's Hidden Blade is designed the same as Connor's. For those who played the 3rd game, it ejects from the bracer so it can be used as a regular knife._

_Which brings me to another topic, does it seem right that Piper gets to kill anybody in general? She's always teetering to one side. Should she kill this guy, or should she let him live? She'll murder someone only when it's necessary, I suppose. What do you guys think?_

_Until next time! Don't forget to review!_


	8. Not So Perfect

The news said that it was 82 degrees but Piper requested for hot chocolate. Mason wrapped a blanket around her, squeezing her shoulder before going in the kitchen. Roberto and Lance were seated on the floor, staring intently at the TV, watching a replay of the Superbowl. Sophia sat in the armchair, ignoring Piper's mere existence, her fingers tapping against the keyboard of her laptop at a rapid speed.

Brownie was taken to another room but he was still wrapped in her sweater, leaving Piper to toy with the Hidden Blade. The others made no motion to take it away from her. She wish someone did, though. It had Anton's blood on it.

It had only been two hours but Piper shivered everytime she recalled her first kill. It made her wince as she envisioned Anton's body falling face first into the ground. He was dead. She killed him. That was the end of it. Time to move on.

But she couldn't. No one deserved to die. For all she knew, Anton probably had a family. A family who would mourn his death and cry and pray for him to come back. It made her think of her dad.

_The Templars killed your dad_. Heat flared inside her, smashing away whatever pity and empathy she had. It was intentional. Anton had some part in it. Hell, it was possible that he was the one driving that van.

She felt oddly compelled to find out. Maybe Anton's death would be a boon rather than a burden if he caused her dad's so called "accident."

But still. Shame and remorse washed over her everytime she closed her eyes. She saw Anton's sneering face, his blond hair ruffling, his hazel eyes reflecting before the light in them burned out like a candle.

No one deserved to die.

A hand patted her shoulder. Mason gave her an sympathetic glance and, as requested, handed her hot cocoa.

"You want to talk about what happened?" He asked softly.

So she did. Piper skipped to the part about running in the forest, up to where she spotted Brownie and told it from there. The others stopped what they were doing and listened. Her voice choked and she stumbled on her words but they were good listeners. They didn't interrupt her once.

"What was the name of the man?" Sophia asked. The older woman was rapt as Piper replayed what happened. Very different from her stoic and cold behavior.

"Anton Veniam…son of Aphrodite."

Piper was expecting them to be surprised but around the room their expressions remained the same.

"So, there are demigod Templars?" Piper asked.

Mason nodded. "From both sides, Greek and Roman."

"But the war with Gaea…" Piper said weakly. "we defeated her. We bought peace between the two sides."

Sophia regarded her coolly. "You think your quest bought peace? The Assassins and Templars have been at each other's neck for centuries. Those who are not aware of the silent war are ignorant of this dispute.

"There has never been peace among the two. So there will never be peace between the Greek and Roman."

Great, Piper thought, sinking deeper into her seat. So, all our efforts in bringing peace were in vain. Why did that not surprise her?

"Which is why Chiron and Lupa have formed this…program," Roberto stated. "They've decided the Assassins goal to bring peace in society would help bring peace between the Greeks and Romans."

"But," Sophia added gravely, "since there's Assassins and Templars from both sides, it really comes to question on who you could trust."

As she said this, her voice hardened and her gaze pierced right into Piper's before they shifted towards Mason. Her greyish-blue eyes narrowed at him, almost as if she was trying to unfold him with just a look.

_What was that all about?_

Sophia looked like she trying hard not to maul Mason. Being a daughter of Aphrodite, Piper didn't sense that kind of relationship between them. Quite the opposite, really.

Next to her, Mason stiffened and looked away.

"So," Piper said, sniffling. She stared down at the brown contents of her warm beverage. She didn't dare drink it down. It tasted like hot tears. "who is Desmond Miles?"

Lance cocked an eyebrow. "An Assassin."

"I figured just as much," she mumbled.

"To put it short," Sophia said, cutting off whatever retort he was about to say. "Desmond Miles was an Assassin who was raised in camp until he ran away. He was captured by Abstergo and then saved by a group of Assassins."

"He's also an ancestor to Connor." Lance piped up.

"Kenway?" asked Piper.

"No, Stoll. Who do you think?" Lance threw up his hands in exasperation.

"In any case," Sophia intervened, "we're not here to discuss what once was." The older woman turned to Lance. "Did you tell her about Juno?"

Lance shook his head.

Piper felt her stomach clench. What did that goddess do now? What trouble was she stirring up?

"What about Juno?" she asked warily.

"Not _that_ Juno," said Mason.

"We're talking about the First Civilization Juno," Lance explained. "We'll call her Uni for now so we don't get mixed up with the Roman goddess."

Piper nodded. "Okay, what about Uni?"

"Do you remember what happened on December 21st, 2012?"

That was only two months prior but Piper only remembered that she was holed up in her room with the curtains drawn and the door locked. What she was doing she couldn't remember but it must've had something to do with Jason. The deadline of her first quest was on the twenty-first; the winter solstice. Reminiscing about stuff like that tended to make her nostalgic.

However, as she eventually came out of the room, her dad had pulled Piper into his arms. He went on and on about how the entire world was wrapped with this green stream of light and that he thought the 2012 prediction was real.

Piper didn't think much of it at the time but as the Assassins explained that Desmond Miles was responsible for causing the "green stream of light," which was actually solar flares, she wished she had paid more attention. Apparently, Desmond was the "key" to saving the world from the 2012 apocalypse but his salvation killed him in the process and also released Uni from her prison. **[1]**

Piper found it a bit hard to believe but Sophia's expression said she wasn't kidding.

"What was containing Uni?" Piper asked.

"Ever since the First Disaster, the First Civ became… extinct," Mason said.

"But they never really left." Sophia said distractedly. She was standing up now, going to the coffee table to grab two manila folders. "Their minds and spirits were still there but their bodies were imprisoned."

"But Juno, Uni, whatever, she's… released?" Piper inquired. "And that's bad because…?"

"Because it's bad." Lance said, his cheery disposition gone.

"Look, we're all in the dark about this," Mason told her. "The other Assassins are still trying to figure out what Uni is planning. What we do know is that it has something to do with the artifacts that they left behind."

Piper nodded and turned to Mason. "These artifacts…"

"We happen to have one of them." Mason said, confirming her suspicions. That glowing sphere in that box back at the old base must have been it. Piper remembered the glowing orb and how she was drawn to its power. It was scary but exhilirating. Like jumping off a cliff and Piper knew exactly what that felt like.

Sophia closed her laptop. "So, what we'll do for now is collect the artifacts before Uni does. Gods know what she plans to do with them."

Piper's lip thinned into a frown. "That's why Abstergo is invading Camp Jupiter, right? There's an artifact there."

Sophia looked surprised. "Well, yes." For the first time, the older woman smiled. It was different, pleasant even. Piper found herself smiling back until Sophia said, "It's nice to know that your not completely hopeless."

Piper choked on her hot chocolate. "Excuse me?"

"She just means that you don't look smart," Mason said.

Piper turned on him. In a second, his dark green eyes widened in realization before his cheeks reddened.

Roberto whistled. "Real smooth, Mason."

Piper sighed and set the hot chocolate down on the coffee table. If there was one thing that offended her the most, it was being viewed as stupid.

She glared at Sophia. "What do you mean by 'hopeless?'"

The older woman shrugged. "Seeing as you've spent the last three months holed up in your house because of some _boy_," Piper bristled at that, "well, it comes to question whether it was worth bringing you into this."

Piper was standing up now. "Worth? Who are you to judge? I just killed my half-brother! And I didn't want to!"

Sophia snorted. "That's my point. You obviously hesitated to kill Anton Veniam."

"Of course I hesitated!" Piper knocked over her hot chocolate but she didn't care. "Who the hell goes around killing people?"

"The Assassins," Sophia said bluntly. "And Anton Veniam was a Templar, so stop acting like it's the end of the world. You killed him. Move on."

Piper's whole arm was shaking. "You don't get it! Killing people? Especially a demigod with the same blood? It's not right."

"So?" Sophia countered. "If you went to war, what would you plan to do? Hope that the bullet you shoot won't potentially kill the victim all because it's not _right_?"

When she put it that way, she had a point. Piper found that she couldn't argue with that.

Sophia shook her head at her. "That's the problem with you. Your naive. You envision a world that's perfect for you, and you only."

Her words struck at Piper. She stumbled backwards as if it physically wounded her. It probably did. _You envision a world that's perfect for you, and you only. Was that true?_

A smug grin crossed Sophia's face and it took all of Piper's willpower not to smack it right off. "You and your ancestor, Connor," she continued. "your not so different from each other but at least he accepted his responsibilities and did what was needed."

"Well, I'm obviously not Connor," Piper huffed.

Sophia sighed. "If your going to argue with me about what's right and what's wrong, don't bother. Your wasting your breath _and_ my time. Thinking like that can have its way but not always. Assassins had a duty and they carried it with dedication and unwavering loyalty for centuries.

"I don't give two shits if your the ancestor of one of the greatest Assassins in history. If you don't have what it takes," the older woman paused and stepped forward, mere inches from Piper's face, her eyes glinting with a burning passion. "Either get on board, or get out of the way."

Sophia took that as her cue to leave the room, her chin pointed up and the soft beat of her heels tapping away.

The droning buzz of the TV kept the remaining four in a leaden silence. Roberto quietly exited, muttering an excuse about cleaning up the place. Mason didn't move, and Piper didn't feel the stare she was receiving.

Sophia didn't need to raise a finger to hurt Piper. Her words saw to that. While it felt like acid was dripping in Piper's ears, she had to admit that what Sophia said was partially true. Killing your own brother is wrong. No, killing in general is wrong.

But the part about Piper being…selfish, maybe that was true though Piper didn't think she was. But the truth was bitter and Sophia's words stabbed her in a way that a blade couldn't. She wanted to refuse this, to brush it aside but she couldn't. She would rather face the truth than believe in a lie.

Was that her fatal flaw? Two years ago, back in Camp Half-Blood, Annabeth had told Piper about Percy's fatal flaw and her own, as well.

"No doubt that you take pride in your own work," Piper had joked. Annabeth smiled and Piper proceeded to ask what _her_ fatal flaw was.

"Truthfully, Piper, I don't know," Annabeth said. "For everyone, it's different. But I wouldn't worry too much about it."

And she didn't. But now, with this whole Assassin/Templar conflict, maybe it was time to consider. Where there was conflict there was bloodshed, and right now, Piper didn't want to see another person die.

There was no point to dwell on it. At least, not right now.

"How will they even get in?" Piper asked, not speaking to anyone in particular.

Mason looked up reluctantly. "If your talking about the Templars, Abstergo already has spies in Camp," he said. "They're using the Feast of Lupercal as a distraction to retrieve the artifact that's been hidden deep inside New Rome."

"But how will they get in? Terminus won't allow—"

Mason held up a hand. "Terminus won't be present which is why the Templars are choosing that day to strike."

Piper frowned. "Where is Terminus?"

Mason shrugged. "Last we heard, he went on some special mission requested by Jupiter. He didn't want to leave Camp unprotected but he couldn't refuse." He glanced at her. "You've been away from Camp Jupiter for three months. There's a lot you've missed."

To that, Piper snorted. She had no reason to go back there. The place reeked of bad memories. Ever since she transferred, the majority of the Romans would insult her and say that she wasn't truly Roman. Even with the wolf goddess, Lupa, backing her up, they weren't convinced of her loyalty to them. Piper decided not to waste any effort in trying to prove them otherwise, and her prolonged absence must have added to their view of her.

"But," Mason said, "since it is a festival, I managed to convince the council to add some…decorations to bring up the spirit."

Mason said decorations like he was talking about setting up nuclear bombs.

Piper gulped. "What do you mean by decorations?"

"Well, the Feast of Lupercal is basically Valentine's Day," he explained. "There's going to be a lot of love in the air. Horses will be posted all over camp so couples can ride together. There's going to be romantic pegasus rides, classic carnival games. A ferris wheel is even being set up and there's also going to be a boat ride on the Little Tiber." Mason shrugged. "Little things like that."

Hearing him talk about this stuff made Piper queasy. Ironic, the daughter of love was tired of the very thing her mother stood for. It was bad enough that Jason was ignoring her, but now she was returning to Camp on an event that her mom practically sponsors. Oh joy.

She heaved a long sigh. "How will this help us take down Abstergo?"

For a moment, Mason looked uncertain, almost afraid. "Well, there will be tons of haystacks for the horses."

"Haystacks?" Piper grimaced. "How will that help us?"

"You'd be surprised," Lance piped up. He was chewing on a croissant so she scarcely understood what he said. "It'll make it easier for us to hide and evade people."

Next to her, Mason nodded. "On top of that, we only have two days to train you."

Lance snapped his fingers, his mouth still full. "Oh crap! That's right. I knew I was forgetting something." He gulped down his food and rubbed his hands together. "Don't worry, Piper, you'll start training first thing in the morning."

A secretive smile played on the edges of Lance's lips. Piper groaned. Chances that this training would be pleasant were little to none.

* * *

In her dream, it was cold.

It was so dark that she couldn't see anything. Her eyes didn't adjust and make out any objects that lingered in her line of sight. When she walked, her foot found nothing, her other senses failed her as she trotted forward. Seeing didn't aid her and she was scared to call out, in fear of something lurking beneath all the black.

Lance told her that it was important to master stealth. As an Assassin, it was a crucial element. Was the darkness meant to help her? She considered sitting down just to see what would happen but decided against it since this was a dream. It _has_ to be a dream.

She couldn't tell if her eyes were closed or not. It was like looking into a dark abyss. Did falling into Tartarus feel like this? She made a mental note to ask Annabeth about that.

Whenever she thought of Annabeth, she thought of Percy. Those two were practically made for each other and now Percy was going to seal their love with a ring to show how much he cherished Annabeth. They've been through hell and back (literally) more than once. That kind of relationship was bound to keep them together for as long as they lived.

_So why can't Jason and I be like that?_ She thought. He made promises but he didn't keep them… What happened to all those times they spent together? Did they mean nothing to him? Did he regret any of it? Does he miss it? He said he wouldn't go back to Camp Jupiter without her.

_Yeah but he said nothing about us being together,_ she thought bitterly. She wanted to cry but the tears wouldn't come.

Piper walked on, wandering, the cold creeping down her back in languorous waves. She looked behind, finding nothing but feeling something. Her steps made no noise but her breathing pitched and her palpitate heart thundered loud in her ears. One night of peaceful sleep was obviously too much to ask.

Suddenly, her chest was on fire. Blood soaked her clothes but she immediately knew it wasn't hers in spite of the blazing pain erupting in her. Glass prickled her calves as she bent over, tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked up, and locked gazes with him.

This was the last time she saw him. Dead in the driver's seat of the silver Porsche with blood running down his shirt and his skin cold to the touch.

Except this was different. His eyes were open.

Her dad gave her a sad smile. He looked the same. Dark skin, dimpled chin, and that set of wistful burnt umber eyes that stared intently into hers. Piper's lips formed his name and, weakly, she lifted a hand, wanting to hug him, to touch him, to feel him. She reached out and so did he. He stroked her cheek, his fingers as soft and smooth as feathers. Warm. Tender. She felt safe.

She closed her eyes and when she opened them again, her dad's image melted away, like wax on a candlestick before he was engulfed in heaps of sputtering flames. The fire brightened, licking the dark space until it turned blue. _Blue._ Sky blue. Deep pools of blue forming into the shape of wide slits. Sky blue eyes…

_Just a dream. This is just a dream. This is just a dream._

His face appeared in the flames, his eyes glowing like stars. He held out his hand, beckoning her. His words, sweet and honeyed, promised joy and comfort, everything that she lacked and desperately wanted. The fire tingled her back, urging her.

Without much thought, Piper ran straight to the flames.

To Jason.

To her death.

* * *

**Sorry for the long update. Keeping straight A's is harder than I thought. There was suppose to be more to this but it got too long and I decided to just make it into a separate chapter.**

**[1] The ending for AC3 royally sucked. Ubisoft needs to create a remake because there's so many glitches and too many optional objectives that take way too much time. But the ending sucked. It was just disappointing.**

**Special thanks to pjato-lover, kingawesome, XxMidnightSolsticexX, SongOfTheSparrow27, and my guest for reviewing! Thanks to SongOfTheSparrow27 and reading1998 for following!**

**SongOfTheSparrow27: Very clever of you to figure out the secret message in Piper's Poem. I thought no one would figure it out but I was secretly hoping for someone to notice. I'm glad you like the story so far :)**

**Next update should be soon! Please review!**


	9. Trust Issues

_**February 13, 2013**_

_**5:47 pm**_

_Mason said that writing in a journal would "help" me. How writing words on paper could help is beyond me but I said I would try. I don't know where to begin so I'll just start from the top._

_Last week, I spent my seventeenth birthday with my dad. On our way home, a van crashed into my dad's Porsche and it killed him. Except it wasn't an accident. Abstergo staged the whole thing but they left me alive for reasons beyond my understanding. Anton said that I was meant to die along with my dad. The fact that I survived was a sign (which I didn't believe) that the thunderbird was watching over me._

_My dad told me that the Thunderbird was a good omen. Yeah right. Five minutes after he told me that he died, and it's not not like I can seek comfort from Jason… My life went downhill just as I started to see everything in a different view. On top of that, I find assassin robes in my dad's office. And I thought a demigod's life couldn't get any more dangerous. Guess I was wrong._

_I found out that I was descended from a line of Assassins and that my ancestors, Connor Kenway and Aribelle Quirke, played a big part in history. The question whether I will join them in their endeavors remains unknown. I've suffered more than I can endure. It's a wonder how I can keep going on._

_And that dream… if I can even call it a dream. Nightmare doesn't seem the right word because I've lived through the experience. Why should I be tormented again for something that was way beyond my control? I don't blame myself for what happened but my thoughts seem to bear a heavy burden even as I try to move on._

_Lance and Mason trained me since yesterday, and I've been put into the training of my life. I can't feel my legs. My arms are sore and my hands are callused from climbing. I was taught the chokehold so I wouldn't have to stab anyone from behind. Thank the gods but I'm instructed to carry a Hidden Blade just in case._

_I've been taught the basics parkour. I scaled buildings, learned how to free run for miles without stopping, vaulted over obstacles, and I even climbed a tree but I had trouble getting down. I practiced with my Hidden Blade but I'm more than afraid to hurt anyone with it even if I'm an Assassin._

_I feel stronger. Unstoppable. Better, even. I feel like I can do anything. Half an hour ago, Lance dragged me to the top of the roof and pushed me off so I could perform the Leap of Faith. I remembered screaming and cursing at Lance. But the exhiliration and the blood pumping through my body kept me from falling to my death and into a huge pile of leaves. I punched Lance after that but he just laughed._

_I have to admit, the training was pretty fun but after doing all that nonstop I just want to take a nice long bath._

_I'm afraid someone might look into this but I have the feeling that the others know something that I don't. They're not telling me some piece of information. I don't want to be nosy in spite of my growing curiosity. However, I am vaguely aware that it has something to do with Mason._

_Speaking of, Mason is going to drop me off at home where a "surprise" will be waiting for me. With all that's going on, I've had enough surprises, and I just might break if I have to watch someone die before my eyes._

**_-Piper McLean_**

Ever the courteous gentleman, Mason opened the car door for her that evening. The sun was setting and the sky was painted a mix of purple and orange. It would have been beautiful if not for the ugly world that the sun bathed in. Even the sun couldn't lift up her spirits. It just made her more gloomy.

She was wary when she stepped in the car. Ever since the accident, the thought of ending up in another car crash caused her stomach to twist into tight knots. What were the odds of her surviving another car accident? It made her anxious.

The ride home was relatively quiet. Mason had his iPod plugged in the stereo and it was playing music which made her uneasy. It was only halfway through End of the Road by Boyz II Men that her eyes blurred from unshed tears. Piper changed songs and kept skipping, hoping to find something that didn't orchestrate how she was feeling. Mason didn't complain, though the corners of his lips tightened. His playlist was mostly Taylor Swift (_really Mason?_) and the sad thing was that Piper listened to some of them.

"I'm sorry about my iPod," Mason finally said.

She paused the song and glanced at him. "How's it your fault?"

"It's a gift from my dad."

"What kind of gift does," she gestured with her hand to the iPod. "that?"

Mason gave her an apolegetic smile. "The kind of gift you get from Apollo."

Piper grimaced. _Oh, so he's related to Octavian,_ she thought. _That must be…something._

"Songs are full of emotions," Mason went on, "so this gift plays music of how a person is feeling. Particularly, yours."

"How?"

"Say if you step into a room with another person. The person standing longest in the room or, in this case, a car, has songs with their emotions played on my iPod," he explained.

_Great, what better way to feel humiliated than to have your heart poured out into multitudes of lovesick songs?_ As an attempt to appear as though she was over Jason, she wasn't fooling anyone.

"What a wonderful gift," was all she said.

In the end, Piper decided not to listen to any music. With the window down and the crisp wind causing her brown hair to dance around, a few minutes of relaxation would help ease the strain in her muscles. Her training had left her body sore and it would continue to ache throughout tomorrow.

Truthfully, she didn't want to attend the Feast of Lupercal. Sure, she was going to be incognito during the whole event but what if she was forced to kill someone?

Plus, the others didn't tell her what exact artifact they were looking for. It was from the First Civilization and, according to Lance, that race had technology that was far advanced than today. The glowing ball she had found in the closet at the old base was called the Piece of Eden. Piper didn't want to know what kind of power that sphere held but it made her wonder what they were going to do with all of it once they hoarded them.

For two days, she took a great deal of time getting to know her companions. Lance was…Lance. Roberto was always helpful…when it came to practicing hand-to-hand combat, and Mason was like a squire, meekly carrying out his orders given from the hard boiled Sophia.

Piper was still irate with the older woman. Sophia acted as the leader, an ambitious and unkindly one. She was always barking orders and telling everyone to work. Piper was sure Sophia had her own reasons for being so demanding but with three diligent companions at her side, Piper expected her to be a little more appreciative.

In a sense, she mirrored Reyna. Her icy blue eyes reminded Piper of the daughter of Bellona; cold and commanding and unflinching. Only difference was that Reyna had a whole army of vengeful demigods at her command with a power crazed son of Apollo at her heels. Piper could understand Reyna's situation and how she could be stressed out by that. She respected Reyna but that didn't mean she had to like her.

For Sophia, Piper didn't even respect her. She was constantly targeting anyone who wasn't doing work, particularly Mason. But that was another thing. Piper suspected that Sophia held a grudge against him. She tried to ask Lance but he would only clench his jaw and tell her not to worry. It seemed that everytime some new problem arises, Piper was getting more questions than answers.

Finally, Piper said, "Hey, Mason?" He briefly glanced at her with eyebrows raised. "Does Sophia hate you?"

"No," he replied, startled, "Why do you ask?"

She shrugged. "Well, she looks at you like you punched her grandmother."

Mason looked amused. "That's one way to look at it. No, Sophia is usually like that."

Piper frowned. "Cold and judgemental?"

"I know she can be hard but you'll see. She's a good person. She just takes some time getting used to, that's all." Mason took a sharp turn left and Piper hit against the door, her bad shoulder protesting. "She'll warm up to you in time."

_In time._ "How long have you've been working with her?" she asked.

"Two years." His tone was wary.

"How long has Lance been working with her?"

"Six years."

Piper pressed on. "What about Roberto?"

Mason hesitated, considering her question before he said, "A few months." Piper raised her eyebrows at him. Piper observed that Roberto and Sophia were on equally good terms. The same can't be said for Mason.

"Everyone's different," he said when he saw her face screw up.

Piper gave him a queer look. "But Sophia is different with you."

"I'm not like you guys," he answered.

"What do you mean?"

Mason took a deep breath. "Well, you, Lance, Sophia, and Roberto are born into the Order. I'm not."

"Isn't that normal?" Piper remembered Lance mention something about anyone joining the Assassins, bloodline or not.

Mason's dark green eyes saddened. "Well, yeah. But for me, it's different."

"I don't understand how," she said through gritted teeth. "Sophia shouldn't be treating you, or anyone, like that. Whatever reasons she has, it doesn't give her an excuse."

Mason sighed. "I don't see why your so concerned."

_Neither do I,_ Piper thought. "I'm just worried. She should be a better leader. How can she look after us when we can't look up to her as a leader?"

"She has her own way of looking after us."

Piper felt her chest burn with irritation. "Harshly criticizing others and glaring at them like they're gonna grow three heads isn't considered looking after your friends."

Mason just pursed his lips. He stared at the road, looking but not actually seeing. How could he defend Sophia? The older woman wasn't acting like a leader and, in Piper's view, bullying someone you've worked with for two years was cruel. Frank and Leo were able to put aside their difference and resolve their not-so-concealed feud in a matter of days, so why shouldn't Mason and Sophia do the same?

Something flickered in Mason's dark green eyes. "Sophia has her reasons," he stated cryptically.

"Yeah? Like what?" Piper challenged.

"She distrusts me." His voice was lower than a whisper.

Despite her pressing, and perhaps nosy, questions maybe Piper should have minded her own business. Gently, she asked, "Why?"

It took him a moment to answer. "Because… I'm a Templar."

_(Line Break)_

Sitting on top of Berkeley Hills, overlooking New Rome, was a gracious sight to behold. The clouds covered the sun at intermittent times and the sunlight heated up Piper, filling her with vigor. The last few days were hectic so basking in the freedom and solitude of silence and peace was a definite need.

New Rome was decorated with streamers and banners that were colored pink, red, or purple. In the Field of Mars, a ferris wheel sat idle and from afar, she could see demigods arranging flowers around the Forum, and littered around the camp were small tents. For what purposes they were there for she could not say but the very notion of what could go on inside seemed relevant to the Feast of Lupercal since it was Valentine's Day. This was the only Feast that allowed underlings to drink wine and though Piper never had a drop of it, she was well aware of the effects it could do.

A garrison dressed in Imperial Gold armor with helms were preparing for sentry duty while some were practicing. Piper could see Reyna walking around with her dark hair in a braid over her shoulder and her praetor cloak trailing behind her, a clipboard in her hand and a pen in the other. Piper didn't see Jason, and was glad of it.

Strong stallions trotted on the open lands, grazing the grass. A group of satyrs were taunting them and one was chasing a brown mare around while a blonde girl was screaming at them to stop. The grass was freshly cut. No doubt that the satyrs took it upon themselves to mow the fields. The image of a satyr being held by the ankles of a demigod while munching on grass amused Piper, and a small smile graced her lips. But it quickly faded as she remembered Coach Hedge.

Piper didn't know what shocked her most. The fact that Mason was a Templar or that Coach Hedge was an Assassin. Lance informed her that Coach had been in league with them for over two decades. That was the main reason why he enrolled into the Wilderness School, to watch and protect Piper not only because she was a demigod but because she was an Assassin.

Thinking about it, she wanted to wring his neck for not telling her about her ancestry but the old goat went missing last week. Maybe the Templars have him hostage.

_Or maybe he's dead._

Knowing him for his violent streak, he would go down fighting but he was captured before and his old age made him reckless. That temper of his will get him killed and Piper didn't want to see anyone else perish.

"Piper."

Behind her, Shiki Misaki **[1]** waited. Yesterday, after Mason dropped her off home, her surprise turned out to be a "new foundation of friendship" with an eager English/Japanese teenager.

Piper was puzzled to see that Shiki wasn't a daughter of Aphrodite, or even a demigod. The girl was pretty with dyed brownish-red hair and a heart shaped face. She had fair skin and a set of brown eyes that glistened like rich chocolate in the sun.

Shiki pursued a career in fashion and even made the clothes she was currently wearing. On top of that, she was assigned as Piper's stylist. Piper didn't know whether to be honored or horrified but so far, Shiki wasn't overbearing or constantly fussing over her looks unlike Piper's half-brothers and sisters back in Camp Half-Blood, so she decided to give the girl a chance before judging her.

As of yet, Piper liked her. She was amicable and could quickly turn depressing thoughts into good ones.

"It's done?" Piper asked.

Shiki smiled wearily. There were dark circles under her eyes and her skinny legs were shaking but she was practically bouncing. "After four sleepless days with nothing but coffee and Chinese cookies, I'm finally done! Come on! I want to see how the robe looks on you before I get my beauty sleep."

Piper followed Shiki to a decrepit shack just near a line of thick bushes. It was said that the small cabin used to be a post for guards but it proved futile. Outside, the walls were built with tree trunks and the place where the door was suppose to be was blown. Sometimes flies swarmed around and pigeons occupied the empty space but someone must kept it clean because there was no sign of bird poop, or spider webs in the corner and no dust collected on the table.

In the center of the shack, the Assassin robes of Piper's great grandmother covered a beaten mannequin. How she would blend in wearing this to the feast she would never know.

"I remade it so it would fit you," Shiki informed her, patting her work in admiration. "and it's much lighter so you'll move more freely."

Piper chuckled lightly. "Yeah, Lance told me that Aribelle was tall…and strong."

The copper haired girl nodded. "When I first saw it, the robes were in a bad condition. All dirty and old, but don't worry. Nothing will fall apart."

"You did an amazing job," Piper praised.

"Thanks," Shiki said, beaming. Gently, she lifted the outfit from the mannequin and walked around Piper. "This isn't the exact robes that your great grandma wore, though."

"That's fine." Piper held her arms out so the fabric slid through her arms. Shiki wrapped the large belt with the Assassin symbol and secured it tightly on her waist. Piper spun around for Shiki to see and the girl gave an approving nod.

Piper's brow furrowed when she noticed _another_ mannequin in the corner. The clothes covering it were black outlined with red instead of white. Running down the arm from the shoulders was a train of black shoulder pads where the left sleeve was cut short at the elbow and the other reaching down to the wrist.

Piper tapped Shiki on the shoulder. "Whose robes does that belong to? You?"

Shiki looked at the mannequin like it was her first time seeing it, then laughed. "Oh, no. Those are way too big for me. But they once belonged to a Chinese Assassin named Shao Jun. I remade it for her ancestor whose also a demigod."

"Who's her ancestor?"

Something akin to mischief flickered in Shiki's eyes. "You'll know him when you see him," she chuckled. She went to reach under the table, and held up a pair of brown knee-length boots. "You want to wear Aribelle's boots, too?" Piper just shrugged and slid them through her legs.

When she glanced in the full length mirror, she didn't know what to think. The robe fit perfectly and the white contrasted with her skin, bringing out the color of her kaleidoscope eyes. Her uneven hair reached past her shoulders, the little braids with beads and feathers grazing her collarbone where the Thunderbird necklace rested.

"I'll try to make a robe that's more modern." Shiki said, drawing a chair from the corner. "It may take a while but I'm already working on the designs."

Piper smiled. "I can't wait."

Shortly after that, Shiki styled her hair in a french braid and gushed over how thick Piper's hair was. After Shiki tucked her hair inside her coat, Piper begrudgingly allowed her to add a pinch of makeup. She powdered her cheeks, added a little blush and applied red lipstick. The eyeliner made her eyes deeper though it didn't matter to Piper because when she pulled the hood over her head, the beak shrouded her eyes in darkness.

Saying bye to Shiki, Piper made made her way to the aqueduct. Night began to fall on Camp Jupiter but balls of light decorated New Rome, illuminating the city and adding a grandeur appearance. Circling around the Coliseum, small round lanterns encased in glass burned.

Terminus must have been crazed about protecting New Rome while he was gone. Demigods were armed with gladius, spears, bows, crossbows and even guns. Troops on horseback wore helms with spathas strapped to their belts and snipers on rooftops were equipped with long ranged weapons. It made Piper anxious just looking at them.

The aqueduct was barren of any decorations so it proved for a good place to meet. Only problem was Piper had trouble seeing.

"Over here, Piper."

She could scarcely see him because of his dark skin but she spotted the black silhouette of Roberto leaning against the aqueduct. Instead of a white hood, he wore a blue hat.

As far as Piper knew, Roberto was a few years older than her who ate too much and never gained weight. Lance told her that he was a descendant of an Assassin named Aveline de Grandpré who lived during the same time around Piper's ancestor, Connor. At first glance, Roberto was someone you knew you could rely on. He had that aura where you knew you were safe. Kind of like Jason.

Piper pushed that thought away.

"Where are the others?" she asked.

"Right here."

One by one, her allies stepped out from the shadows. Considering that it was so dark, Piper could barely see them.

"We have a problem," Mason reported grimly.

Piper frowned. The mission didn't even start and something already went wrong.

"What is it?" Roberto asked.

"The key to the door is missing." That was Sophia. She didn't sound too happy.

"What?" Piper looked at their faces in confusion. "You guys said the artifact is under New Rome. What door—"

"The aqueduct has an entrance that leads underground." Sophia snapped. "But someone stole the key."

"Who?" Piper asked. "The Templars?"

Lance snickered. "No, the Grinch."

"Who else would take it?" Sophia said, wiping her eyeglasses with a cloth. Once she was done, she traced a crack on the wall of the aqueduct and Piper made to stand next to her. "You see these cracks? It signifies that someone recently entered it. Most likely, there were two people doing this. One went inside while the one outside removed the key." Sophia gave a sideways glance at Mason like it was his fault. Piper bit her lip but didn't say anything.

"But how will they get out?" Roberto asked.

Lance snorted. "Does it matter?"

Sophia looked at all of them sharply. "What matters is that there's an artifact down there and the Templars are already one step ahead of us."

"So, what are we waiting for?" Piper said. "Let's go find it."

"It could be anywhere by now," Mason sighed. "Besides, we don't know what this key looks like."

Roberto pursed his lips. "And only the Eagle Vision can locate it. But we only have two people with that ability."

This seemed to upset Sophia. "Then we split up. Since there's five of us, we'll find it quicker."

Piper's eyes widened. "Wait, so your telling me it's only us five? We don't have backup? What if one of us gets into a public fight?"

"We don't." Sophia said curtly. "This is particularly why we're keeping this subtle."

Piper wanted to argue but she held her tongue.

Sophia cleared her throat. "Lance, you look around the Field of Mars and the Caldecott Tunnel. Piper, you'll scour the Principia, and the Barracks. Roberto, you'll cover New Rome—"

Next to Piper, Roberto smiled widely. "Well, I _am_ hungry," he murmured.

Sophia didn't hear him, or chose not to. The older woman's grey blue eyes then landed on Mason. "Mason, your with me."

_Where she could keep an eye on him,_ Piper thought. Sophia stalked away, towards New Rome where she pulled up her hood. Piper thought Mason would follow her but instead, he turned to Piper.

"Here," he held out his hand to present her with an earpiece. "We'll keep in touch this way."

Piper nodded and secured the device on her ear.

"Oh, and Piper?" Mason said anxiously. "Make sure you stay away from Reyna's dogs."

Piper loved dogs but Aurum and Argentum was an exception. They didn't like her. Heck, they didn't like anyone other than their owner.

"I don't need to be told that," Piper said.

"No, you really have to," Roberto warned. "Your friend, Leo, installed cameras in their eyes."

"What? Why?"

Mason shrugged. "It was a gift. Meant to represent the bonding between the Greeks and Romans."

That's right. It's been two years since the Greeks and Romans finally forged an alliance. The Fates only knew how long it would hold.

"How is that possible?" Piper asked. "They're dogs."

"They're automatons," Lance corrected. "If they so much as see you prowling around, looking all suspicious, they'll record it before tearing you to shreds."

"They're acting like security cameras. But since they actually have cameras in their eyes, we have to be careful," Mason added grimly.

"Great," Piper grumbled, shakig her head. "Gods, Leo. What have you done?"

There was a ghost of a smirk dancing on the edges of Lance's lips. "Next thing you know he's gonna install infrared lasers."

"Like Superman," Roberto added.

Their group dispersed; Mason walked away looking quite innocent and placid; and Roberto who went to the nearest stall selling exotic desserts. Lance tagged along with Piper, only to remind her of the training he had put her through.

Both of them scaled a red tiled house, where said tiles clacked noisily under their feet. Piper was concerned about it attracting attention but no demigods were around the area, and she slowly eased down.

"Remember what I taught you," Lance told her. He was thirteen but he was her teacher and since he was a son of Minerva, Piper felt small compared to him since he knew so much when he was so young.

"Where do we even start looking?" Piper asked. What if they never found the key in time?

"Just use the Eagle Vision," Lance sighed, "and make sure to blend in. Don't draw attention, stay away from Reyna's dogs, hide in haystacks blah, blah, blah. All that cheese."

Lance turned to leave but stopped and smiled impishly at her over his shoulder. "Remember, the only way down is up," he stated, before jumping off the roof, leaving Piper alone.

Distant music began playing. The people of Camp Jupiter seemed in high spirits but the same could not be said for Piper. She remained on the rooftop for a few minutes, not quite wanting to go searching for the key just yet.

Her absentminded thoughts led her to think about her dad. Was this what he wanted? For his own daughter to become a murderer? After killing Anton Veniam, her half-brother, Piper swore (not on the Styx) that she would never kill anyone. Not unless it was absolutely necessary.

It made her feel alone. Her dad, friends, and boyfriend had left her when she needed them the most. Piper recalled her last conversation with her dad. He mentioned that the Thunderbird was a good omen. Was it? So far, she watched him die, Jason wanted nothing to do with her, and she was stuck having to decide whether she wanted to stay as an Assassin.

A heavy sigh passed her lips. She ran her fingers through her hair and immediately, her ears strained when she heard the sound of footsteps padding softly on the tiled roof. Hastily she scrambled to stand up but before she could act, the tip of a gladius was brushing against the base of her throat.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

He advanced towards her slowly until her back met the wall. When he stepped out into the light, Piper silently swore to the gods. His expression was austere but in his eyes was something that looked inexplicably like pain.

Piper's heart stopped when he spoke.

"Remove your hood." Jason commanded.

* * *

_This chapter is dedicated to kingawesome for unwittingly speaking the truth back in Chapter 4! Congrats, buddy!_

_Thank you **kingawesome** for reviewing! Also, thanks to **Srijapto, anarchicDeviant, **and** PercyJackson the dragonborn** for following. And thanks to **Srijapto, Fanfiction Bard,** and** PercyJackson the dragonborn** for favoriting._

_[1] The character Shiki Misaki belongs to Square Enix. I used her character partially because I'm currently obsessed with the game and that I wanted to._

_Now, should I switch point of views or is everyone fine with Piper? Just want you guys to tell me what you think about that._

_And for any Assassin's Creed fans, who do you think is Shao Jun's ancestor?_

_I seem to always forget this but I posted drawings of this story on DeviantART. I use the same name, NinjaxSketcheartx so you'll have no trouble finding it. I'm gonna create a cover soon but it may take a while…_


	10. The Enemy

Jason kept a steady hand on his gladius. The Assassin was backed against the wall yet he had the notion that if he left her with enough room, she would run off. He didn't know anything about these Assassins other than the fact that they were very dangerous.

"Remove your hood," Jason repeated.

The Assassin didn't so much as blink though Jason couldn't tell since her eyes were covered by a hood. On the Assassin's neck was a bird necklace carved out of wood. Only a portion of her skin was exposed and it showed her dark skin. She was weaponless. Unless she had a magic sword in her pocket, which was highly unlikely, she meant no threat.

Jason's arm started to ache from holding his gladius. His blade shook but his arm felt leaden.

"What do you Assassins want?" he demanded. "What are your goals? Why are you infilitrating my camp? Why?"

. . .

_Maybe she can't speak,_ he reflected. Still, it didn't answer any of his questions. Jason grinded his teeth. "Remove your hood."

The Assassin bit the bottom of her cherry lips. He wondered what she looked like underneath the hood. If she was beautiful, why cover herself up?

Slowly, the Assassin lifted her hands to her hood…

…and over her head as a sign of surrender.

Moments later, they clambered down the red tiled house using a wooden ladder. The tip of the gladius reoriented itself at the small of the Assassin's back. Octavian had bought these Assassins to light and how they were "conspiracy freaks." Jason never heard of them but the title of their enemies was enough to convince Jason of their type.

On the other hand, the Templars didn't sound so friendly either. Of course, Octavian had claimed them as friends. And for once, this was something Reyna agreed on. Not Jason though.

Four days ago, they called a Senate meeting which included Percy and Annabeth. After listening to Octavian lecture the history behind this cult called the Assassins, he proclaimed that Camp Jupiter recognize the Templars as allies. Percy said there was something fishy about both groups, though if he had to choose (which he didn't) he would pick the Templars as friends because he thought they were monks who were associated with sacred temples from ancient times. Annabeth, of course, was skeptical about the proclamation and thought it was best that the Romans tested these Templars. Jason agreed wholeheartedly.

As for Reyna, it was strange but Octavian convinced her about the Templars' allegiance. She told Jason that these people were willing to help them, and that it was ungracious to decline. Jason was expecting her to be dubious about the whole affair but that role passed onto him.

"Praetor," a cold voice called out. "You found one."

The Assassin halted in her steps. Octavian narrowed his eyes at her, his face gaunt, pale, and hollow. "I told you, praetor. These Assassins have snuck into our camp. Abstergo has warned us, and they were right."

Jason sheathed his gladius. He was afraid he might impale Octavian out of annoyance if he had it in his grip. He jerked his chin at the hooded girl. "I think this one is a Templar."

"No, the Templars are civil," Octavian chided. "They have provided us with financial support in rebuilding New Rome. You remember, yes? When your Greek friend fired cannonballs on the city."

"That was a mistake." Jason growled. "These Assassins are a threat but these Templars are a shady group, too. We don't know what their motives are. They could be dangerous."

"Praetor," Octavian said in a patronizing tone. "The Templars are dangerous to our enemies. And our enemies are the Assassins."

Octavian jerked his chin at her. "This one is an Assassin. Can't you tell? They like to hide behind hoods." Octavian sneered. "Did you remove her weapons? They run around with knives up their sleeves."

"She surrendered, and meant no harm," Jason said. "Besides, I don't see a knife."

"That is the point. It's hidden under their sleeves." Octavian pointed at the Assassin's arm. "That is a armguard, praetor. And the knife ejects from underneath."

Jason's jaw tightened. He didn't pay attention to that. He was too busy trying to figure out what she looked like underneath.

"So what shall we do with her?" Octavian queried. His beady eyes suggested that they kill her on the spot but Jason wasn't having none of that.

"After the feast is done, we'll call a meeting in the Senate House," Jason said, careful not to say everything that he intended to do. Octavian was always good at turning the crowds views and tricking others.

The Assassin turned her head up. "What is that?"

Jason tore his eyes away from Octavian to stare at her. His mouth was agape. "Your voice… you sound familiar. Do I—?"

Jason hissed loudly as a mosquito bit deep into the side of his neck. He clasped the area where he was bit. His fingers found a stiff dart pressed into his skin.

"No."

"Praetor?" Octavian's voice sounded distant. "What—hey! Koff, koff, Where are you, Assassin? _Koff, koff,_ Where did this _koff, koff,_ smoke come from?! _koff, koff, koff…_"

Something hard knocked Jason on the side of his head. The impact left his head swimming. He fell on his knees which sended tendrils of pain to snake up his legs. He didn't see any smoke. He didn't see anything. He only saw her.

She stood before him. Her skin dark and her brown hair hung loosely around her shoulders in uneven layers. She wore no clothes but at least most of her body was covered by a white veil. He would have looked away from her nudity but he couldn't.

Jason felt tears swell in his eyes. "Piper?"

Nothing about her changed. Though, she had developed a slim figure and her eyes seemed hollow. All the same, she was beautiful. Even when she was staring down at him.

There was hurt in her eyes. He could see it. Her eyes told everything.

"Gods, Piper, I… I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry." Jason felt the words flow out of his mouth like a waterfall. "I didn't mean t-to leave you. To abandon you. I never—"

Jason faltered.

Piper didn't say anything. She only looked at him, her eyes changing from a dull brown, to an empty green, then to a cold blue.

"Piper, no." She was drifting away, her gaze still focused on him. "Wait, I'm sorry. Piper… please."

"Jason," a calm voice said. "It's an illusion. It's not real. Clear your mind."

Just like that, the scene changed. He saw the faint outline of a girl his age. Jason's throat was dry but he managed to say, "Reyna."

When his vision cleared, he was staring into Reyna's intense dark eyes. Jason must have collapsed because she was kneeling, leaving little space between them. His fellow praetor clasped his forearm, her grip tight, and pulled him up on his feet.

Reyna regarded him coolly. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just a little shaken."

The crease in her forehead smoothened though, there was tension in her shoulders. "Octavian came to me as soon as the smoke cleared. He says an Assassin knocked you out with this."

In her hand was a thin tube-like object about nine inches long with a sharp point at one end and blunt in the other.

"What is that?"

"A hallucination dart," she responded. "You're lucky it wasn't a concentrated one. I don't think you would have recovered. You were out for three days."

Jason's eyes went as wide as the moon. "What?"

Reyna laughed. "I'm joking. You were out for twenty minutes."

Jason sighed in relief, and forced a smile. Since his return to Camp Jupiter, he noticed that she was doing that a lot. Even more so she smiled often whenever he was around.

"We'll need to warn the guards," Jason said when he gathered his thoughts. "Spread the word but keep it on a low profile. None of the citizens enjoying the feast should worry about this"

"Yes, they don't need to know that there is a killer roaming freely in New Rome," she said dryly.

Jason sighed. "Maybe Octavian was right," Jason admitted. What if they did need the Templars help? Just as they needed the Greeks help to defeat Gaea? What kind of leader would it make him if he refused the Templars aid when they were so supportive?

"Maybe. Maybe not…" Reyna said. "This wouldn't be the first time he was proven wrong."

"And what if _I'm_ wrong?"

Reyna sighed. "I don't like this any more than you do—"

"I thought you did."

Reyna shook her head. "I agree with Octavian but it doesn't mean I have to like it. Abstergo is helping us. They're enemies with these Assassins. The title itself already implies that they're dangerous, and a threat to our camp."

That, Jason had to agree on. At least, they were on the same page.

Reyna bit the bottom of her lip. "They attacked you—"

"I was hit with a hallucination dart. Not a nuclear bomb."

She grimaced. "You could have died tonight by the hands of one of them." There was something in her voice that sounded slightly like grief. Almost scared, but when Jason looked at her, _really_ looked at her, he saw determination set in her dark orbs.

"They must be dealt with," she said. Her tone was final and left no room for an argument. Reyna mounted her pegasus, Scipio, and flew off. She left him a strong white stallion whose socks were black as well as the spots covering his body. As he trotted on the horse, Jason couldn't help but feel nostalgic.

New Rome was littered with couples and beaming citizens. Everyone was in high spirits. None of them knew of the danger that lingered within the city. He turned his horse's head to the shops that outlined the Checkered Square where dozens of couples were dancing on the checker-like dance floor.

Jason vaulted off his horse and tied the reins near a haystack. He went inside a souvenir shop that said, "Jelly Jupiter." The title was painted in gold with purple as its background. A cartoon picture of the Roman god, Jupiter, was caked in jelly from head to toe. His right hand was gestured in a thumbs up and he wore a goofy smile. Jason wondered if his father found this offensive or amusing.

Only one person was inside. Despite having known he was here, in an empty shop with nothing to do, Jason expected him to be celebrating and enjoying the feast. Not sitting behind the cash register with a bored expression.

Jason settled for a smile and said, "Hey man."

Leo nodded, not taking his eyes of his mini iPad. "What brings you here?" he asked. He was playing Angry Birds and judging by the way his face scrunched up, he was losing. When Leo set the device aside and looked up at him, his eyes widened. "Holy Hera, what happened to you?"

"The Assassin."

Leo poured a glass of grape juice for him. "Jeez, they're not messing around, huh? How'd you get the…" Leo made a circular motion with his finger around his eye.

"She hit me."

Leo raised his eyebrows. "Jason the almighty Grace, was beaten by a girl?"

"She had some friends. I was punched, then I got knocked out with a dart." He didn't want to mention his illusion. Jasonn blushed when he thought back on it. How Piper stood before him, naked even if her private parts weren't visible. Leo would assume he was dreaming.

"Dude," Leo said. "nobody just _hits_ you. How did she do it?"

"The dart came first, then the smoke bomb."

Leo's expression turned thoughtful. "Are you sure that she didn't just straight up kicked you in your balls, and ran?"

Jason took a sip of his grape juice. "No… I mean, yes. She took me by surprise."

"That's what they all say," Leo said under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

Jason sat in the stool and grinned. "Thought so."

Leo put away the grape juice container. Jason didn't understand why his best friend would spend his time here when there was a party going on right outside. Even after spending a crazy adventure together, Jason would never understand him.

Leo leaned forward, his fingers tapping on the counter. He was always short and his face was usually childish but two years of working in the forge put some muscle and height into him. There was something about his posture and eyes that changed. He looked mature since he was seventeen but he still had that wistful gleam in his eyes.

"Not that I don't enjoy your company or mind your talk about your praetor issues," Leo started, "but why are you here?"

In truth, he didn't know why he came here. "Just," Jason faltered. "…wanted some advice."

This surprised Leo. "Well, you've come to the _wrong_ person."

"I know. I just… what do you think about Reyna?"

Confusion etched into his best friend's face before it broke into an impish grin. "I think she's one hot chick. One hot, _scary_ chick. But I like her."

Jason furrowed his eyebrows but couldn't repress his smile. "I'll let her know you think about her that way."

"Go ahead," Leo urged. "I'll be on the other side of the country by the time you tell her."

They laughed. It was so long since he spent time with his best friend. Even when Leo went to Camp Half-Blood and Jason remained here, they were still close.

"And what about Piper?" Jason asked, his tone distant. "I never asked you."

Leo glanced up to meet his eyes then turned away. "She's cool. A great friend." Leo hesitated. "Like the sister I never had…or will have."

Jason bit his lip. "I don't even know where she's gone missing."

"Dude, she's not missing. She's at the hospital. Or was. She probably went home."

"Well, I tried going to her house." Jason said dejectedly. He remembered how he went around Camp Jupiter asking everyone if he could borrow their car. "I think she gave me the wrong address."

Leo snorted. "Sounds like something she would do. Especially with the way you've been treating her."

Jason flinched. He knew it was true but it hurt to hear it. "I should have—I should have been there. At the hospital."

"So, why weren't you?"

Jason pursed his lips. "I was busy." Leo quirked an eyebrow. "Camp Jupiter needs me. It's my duty—my responsibility—to lead my people. And I can't do that by playing hooky with Piper."

Leo smirked. "_Hooky_. Why'd you have to use that word?"

Jason scowled. "Shut up."

Leo held up his hands in surrender. When his smile faltered, Jason could see the sternness he rarely displayed. "But seriously, man. She misses you. Her dad's dead, and she needs you."

"I know that," Jason rubbed his temples, "but I don't even know if she wants to see me. What if it's too late?"

"Come on," Leo smacked his back. "It's never too late. It's only late when you've got a deadline from trying to save the world from a sleeping, vendetta goddess." He smiled. "And look where that's got us."

Jason smiled. "Yeah, your right."

"Of course I am," Leo pulled away. "Who knows? Maybe Pipes is hiding somewhere in Camp Jup. Trying to look for you."

_I doubt it_, Jason wanted to say. Why would she choose this day to return? Piper never liked being the center of attention. She said so last year. Jason figured she wouldn't bother coming on the day of the Feast of Lupercal. In truth, he didn't think she'd be returning for a very long time.

"Just keep an eye out." Jason said.

"That's why I have this." Leo held up his mini iPad where he was surveying Camp Jupiter through the eyes of Aurum and Argentum.

Jason left the store, much to Leo's delight. The other person working there was (in Leo's words) "this Amazonian hot babe" who took a half an hour break to enjoy the feast two hours ago. Leo had ushered him out so he could spend some quality time with her when she got back. Well, _if_ she came back.

Heeding Octavian's words for once, Jason took to the roofs of New Rome. The citizens paid him no mind since they were so busy enjoying themselves. Hundreds of couples linked arms and chatted amiably or affectionately with one another. Jason spotted Dakota (actually drunk from wine and not kool-aid this time) who dragged a pretty redhead into a narrow alley. There were groups of single people that were either horse racing or making fun of passing couples on benches.

He imagined himself down there. Piper would stride beside him, holding his hand or his arm wrapped around her waist. They'd find a secluded place, probably to stargaze or just to spend time together, away from everyone and the problems that shaped their lives.

Better yet, Piper would be accompanying him on patrol. Her dark usually messy hair would blow in the wind and caress her soft cheeks. She'd smile and soothe him with her soft words. She always made him feel better. Not because of her charmspeak but because she could.

But everytime he thought of Piper, he pictured Reyna.

He never thought of Reyna as more than a colleague but recently, he was becoming…drawn to her. Praetors usually worked together but that didn't mean they had to be in a relationship just to cooperate accordingly.

Since they defeated Gaea, he returned to Camp Jupiter with Piper but things just weren't the same.

Spending time in Camp Half-Blood had really knocked some sense out of him. He was a Roman. Not a Greek. His sister was daughter of Zeus, not Jupiter. Same dad but different person.

And Piper… oh gods. Sometimes, he regretted ever getting so close to her. Since Jason was so busy with his praetor duties, he thought that she was better off with someone else and tried to make her see this by leaving her alone. Too late, that he realized that it wouldn't work. That he was an idiot for provoking this.

She deserved better. Piper shouldn't be dealing with this torment even if she grieving for her dad. He, Piper and Leo had saved Tristan McLean on the quest to save Hera. It was their first quest together. Jason was confident that Piper's father would live to old age, not knowing about demigods, but the Fates seemed to have other plans. He just wished he had been there for her at the hospital.

He hated to admit it but he started to prefer Reyna's company over Piper's. Nothing about Reyna changed for the past two years, so maybe it was him.

Leo had said that it wasn't too late but Jason was afraid that it _was_ too late. Not for Piper, but for _him_.

He had spent too much time in Camp Half-Blood that he forgot his duties as a Roman. And Piper was a victim to that.

As he examined the city, Jason clambered noisily on the red tiled roofs, being mindful of where he was walking. Admittedly, Jason would have joined in with the feast. He needed to relax even if it was just for a few hours but he knew he couldn't.

The Assassins were hiding in New Rome. The Templars as well. With Terminus absent, it was even harder to keep their enemies at bay. But that was the issue that he could not resolve. Exactly who was the enemy?

To Jason, it didn't matter if the Templars offered help as well as financial aid. They were just as much as strangers compared to the Assassins. Sure, he was grateful that the Templars lent their support but he had every right to be suspicious of their new "friend." It was just something about them that felt wrong. And Jason knew that the strange twisted feeling he got in his stomach was what kept him alive so far.

"Jason!"

He was bought out of his deep thinking when Frank jogged towards him. Frank had no reason to celebrate the Feast of Lupercal since Jason sent Hazel and Nico to go under New Rome, in search of this First Civilization artifact.

"I have something to report." Frank said.

"The reports usually go to Reyna."

"I know but I thought it was better to report to you."

Jason frowned. "Why?"

"I saw them."

Jason was tempted to throw his hands up in exasperation but resisted. "Them? Are we talking about monsters, zombies, mortals, Assassins, or Templars?"

"The Assassins," Frank said.

"You were right to come to me," Jason muttered wearily. "Tell me everything."

"I listened to their conversation," Frank stated, keeping pace with him. "They're not friends with the Templars—"

"No kidding."

"—and they think that the Templars took the key to the entrance."

Jason was amused. "Well, they'll be disappointed to see that the Templars don't have it. Since, I'm not one of them." Jason glanced at Frank who looked like he was trying to swallow a frog. "There's more?"

Frank hesitated. He looked shaken. "One of them—and I could be wrong!" He held up his hands as if he was afraid Jason might strike him. "called the other Piper."

Jason stopped in his tracks. "What?" He felt like someone was using his stomach as a punching bag. "Are you sure?"

Frank frowned. "Well, no, yes. I don't know."

"That's not an answer."

"I know." Frank averted his eyes. He looked miserable and ashamed. Jason suddenly felt guilty. "It was dark and I was on top of the aqueduct, patrolling and protecting the entrance, just as you commanded."

The way Frank said that made Jason sound and feel like a jerk.

"There were about five Assassins."

"Did you hear any names?" Jason asked.

"Besides Piper?" Frank nodded. "Lance, Roberto, and Mason."

"Mason?" This night was just getting even stranger. "As in Mason Velasquez, one of the Senators of Camp Jupiter?"

"Uh, sure?"

Of course Frank wouldn't know him. He was a centurion but Jason figured that a quiet, son of Apollo who spent most of his time outside Camp was someone who would escape the notice of most people. Jason only remembered Mason because Aurum and Argentum didn't tear him to shreds whenever he lied to Reyna.

"Did you see if it was him?" Jason asked, exasperated.

Frank shook his head. "No, it was dark."

"This is just great." Jason gripped the hilt of his gladius. As if he needed more problems to swirl in his mind.

"It could be a coincidence."

Jason wished it was. Two people. One, his kind-of girlfriend and the other who he barely knew were suspects who could be prowling through Camp Jupiter for reasons unknown. It occured to him that the Assassin he encountered might have been Piper but he knew better than to assume, or to be naïve.

Jason fixed Frank with a sullen gaze. "I think you and I have been through enough to never believe in coincidences."

* * *

**I'm so sorry for the long update. But I have a tendency to procrastinate and my school work got in the way. Besides, summer is just around the corner and that's usually the time where I get lazy.**

**I'd to thank The Helios Spirit, M4tt M1ll3r - R4gn0r0k, Fanfiction Bard, sara47234, itingting, kingawesome, HOAhaha and gg (Guest) for reviewing! And thank you azunyan3478, jchizzle123, BrazilianPrincess, fairygirl2468, itingting, and HOAhaha for following! And thanks jchizzle123, fairygirl2468, itingting, and HOAhaha for favoriting! I'm so glad to see that you guys are enjoying this! :D**

**I decided to do Jason's point of view just to test it out, and I apologize in advance to those who did not enjoy this chapter. This will mainly be taken from Piper's perspective but it may randomly switch to someone else's so we can see their side of the situation.**

**If you do not like it, please drop a review and tell me what you think. I'm working on the next chapter so the next update should come soon.**


	11. Dive Into Death

**XI: Dive Into Death**

* * *

"What are they saying?" Piper asked. From the terrace that she, Lance, and Roberto took refuge in, she could perfectly see Jason and Frank though she had trouble hearing them. They exchanged a few words and their expressions were none too pleased. Lance had a knack for reading people's mouth but he kept still and silent as he watched them for five minutes. Piper was afraid that he slept with his eyes open.

The robes that he wore were more modern compared to hers. Instead of furs and feathers with belts that strapped her coat, Lance's was pure white with deep red on the inside. The hood covered his whole face, and the zipper went all the way up to his neck. The hem divided into layers around his legs. The robes made him look slim whereas Piper's shaped her body as a woman, showing a slight curve.

"Lance," she whispered, anxious. "what are they saying?"

"Don't bother him," Roberto said. "He needs to concentrate."

Roberto was hidden in the shadows, his feet propped on the table while she and Lance stood by the railing, fully exposed. She scarcely saw Roberto thanks to his dark skin but her eyes adjusted. When Roberto saved her from Jason, she didn't see him because of his uncanny ability to blend in. She did, however, see the blowpipe which the hallucination dart came hurling out of.

Immediately after Jason was hit with the dart, she threw the only smoke bomb she carried and punched Jason near the eye. She would have hit him some more, Octavian, too, if it wasn't for Roberto. He had dragged her away, his rough hand wrapped securely around her wrist but that didn't stop her from hearing Jason's cries.

Through his illusion, Jason saw her. Why, she could never say. She didn't miss how he pleaded for her forgiveness, how he said her name in that broken, desperate tone. It was another thing she would never forget. Another sound that would haunt her for the rest of her life.

She wanted to punch Roberto for doing that to him but realized that she couldn't bring herself to. He got her out of that situation after all, and her feelings for Jason were still complicated. Especially after hearing the conversation between Jason and Leo. She didn't know what to make out of that.

Piper turned away from Lance and leaned against the white screen overgrown with vines. "I didn't thank you earlier, for saving me."

Roberto took a sip from his Coca Cola can, and burped. "Don't worry about it," he drawled. His black long sleeve shirt and loose camouflage pants gave him a rough-and-tumble appearance, and his brownish red eyes looked like dried blood. He was intimidating with an intense stare that would have sent the strongest man running but deep down he had a kind heart. Like Mason. Like Lance.

Piper wondered why Sophia was so cold and she was inclined to ask her allies why. _Later,_ she thought.

"That dart you hit Jason with," she started, "what did it do to him?"

"He hallucinated, obviously," Roberto retorted.

"I know that," she huffed. "But . . . why was it about me?"

Roberto scratched his chin. "Well, the ingredients used to make the poison—"

"You poisoned him!"

"With a hallucination syringe. Calm your tits, McLean. The effects aren't fatal. The ingredients are from a plant that could only be collected from a swamp. They're not poison, so relax."

Piper eased down somewhat. "So, what did it do to him?"

"It didn't do him any harm if that's what your asking. It only put him in a little . . . guilt trip. Why are you so concerned, anyway? I thought you said he wasn't your boyfriend."

"I never said that." Though now, Piper was not too sure what Jason was to her. She wasn't prepared to face him or what he planned to tell her so she resolved to steer clear from him for as long as possible until she was ready. And she figured that might take a long period of time.

"Jason has the key."

Through the small light that descended on him, only Lance's mouth showed. Right now, they were set in a thin, frustrated line.

Roberto got up from his seat."He does? Where?"

Lance shrugged. "I dunno, but use your Eagle Vision to see if he has it on him."

Roberto stood by the railing and focused on Jason. Frank was gone but the praetor still lingered.

Piper turned to Lance. "What else were they saying?"

Lance's expression was grim. "He knows who we are."

Piper's breathing hitched. "What do you mean?"

Lance removed his hood and pressed his right hand to his ear. "Sophia? We've got a problem."

The earpiece, which they all had, was linked so the five of them were listening. According to Lance's complex geometrical explanation, distance was unlimited. She could have been in Canada and still have a good connection.

Sophia answered in a heartbeat. "What is it?"

"Frank Zhang heard our conversation at the aqueduct. He was standing on top of it, patrolling." Lance paused. "They know we're looking for the key."

Mason's soft voice came next. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Sophia had yet to respond. Piper had never seen the older woman lose her composure. Piper expected her to lose it now but was disappointed when Sophia said, "What else?"

"Well, Jason has the key," said Roberto.

"Then what are you waiting for?" Sophia snapped.

"Well, that's the problem. He has it . . . in his pouch."

"Do something, then," Sophia growled. "We don't have all night."

Piper had to bite her tongue to refrain from speaking out. Maybe they didn't have all night but pressuring others wasn't going to make things easier. Being a leader meant you had to be understanding; empathetic. How were you able to gain respect from your followers if you ruled them with an iron fist?

Their "leader" muttered something incoherent before logging out.

"Where's the pouch?" Lance asked Roberto.

"Right there." Roberto pointed to the black military thigh bag strapped to Jason's leg.

"Okay," Lance pulled his hood over his head and planted his foot on the railing. "I'll be back in a minute."

"Wait!" Piper was careful not to raise her voice. "Lance! What are you—"

Lance vaulted over the edge and into a pile of haystack.

Roberto sighed. "We better be prepared, in case something happens." The older boy followed suit and she was forced to follow them.

Her first Leap of Faith had come early and totally unexpected since Lance pushed her off the roof. Piper had managed to land into a pile of leaves. She blamed Lance that her first time wasn't her best since she was unprepared.

Not wasting any time, she dived down, curled her body and landed her back straight into the haystack. Roberto pulled her out and, together, they followed Lance.

Piper and Roberto crouched behind the end of a bricked house, watching their devious companion. The son of Minerva was casually stalking Jason, his footsteps long and soundless. Lance snuck up behind him and wrapped his arm around his neck. Piper's eyes widened as Jason was lowered down with Lance's sleeper hold, his hand on Jason's mouth to muffle his protests. His body thrashed though it was weak and his hold on Lance's arm wasn't enough to make him let him go.

When Jason's body fell limp, Lance carefully placed his body on the ground. His hands went for the pouch and the key was in his hands.

Lance practically skipped towards them. "Why so serious, Pipes?" he asked. He smirked his cocky smirk and truimphantly held the key up, the light reflecting.

"Look how tiny that thing is," Piper said, her shoulders slumping. The key didn't even look like a key. It was as long as Piper's thumb with a curved edge. Almost like a crescent moon. "All this work for something so small."

"We never would have found it," Roberto admitted.

Lance put the key safely in the insides of his pocket. He held his hand up to his ear and said, "Sophia, the eagle has landed."

Sophia sighed deeply, whether it was from relief or irritation Piper couldn't tell. "I take it you have the key?"

"Yep."

"Good. Rendezvous at the—"

"Assassins!"

Piper inwardly cursed and looked in the direction of the voice. A scrawny twelve year old stood ten meters from them. He pointed his spear hand at them, his lanky arms shaking as he trembled in his boots.

"Get him!" Piper cried.

The three of them charged for the Roman soldier. He squeaked and made to run but lost his footing and tripped, then promptly fell on his flat face. Roberto held down his arms while Piper pushed one of his skinny legs down as Lance covered the other.

"Assassin! Raise the ala—ah!" The boy's screams muffled when Roberto covered his huge hand over his mouth.

Despite the serious situation, Lance laughed. "Raise the ala—ah! Ha ha ha!" Piper sucked her teeth at him but he just kept laughing. "That's too funny. You gotta admit it, Pipes—"

"Assassin!"

Lance wasn't laughing now.

They're heads simultaneously snapped up. More guards stormed towards them faster than a hurricane with spears raised and swords clenched. The boy soldier beneath them was forgotten as they scrambled to their feet.

"Split up!" Roberto yelled.

Lance sprinted left, Roberto went right so Piper was left to go straight . . . into a party of Roman soldiers. On horseback.

_Great,_ she thought.

Before the Roman soldiers could catch her, she scaled the closest building. She tried not to let the pressure overwhelm her as her fingers found places for her to climb. Because of their heavy armor, the Romans couldn't follow her and she was glad to see that trick would work.

When she reached the roof, she ran straight to another. Below her, dozens of soldiers shouted at her. An arrow whizzed past her chest, causing her heart to beat erratically. The sound of gunfire echoed, bullets missing her as she clambered on the rooftops. Completely out of the blue, a rock came hurtling at her, hitting her on the forehead. Her body became light in a matter of seconds and when she landed, the cold, hard ground welcomed her. She considered lying there, sweating, out of breath, the Romans removing her hood, dragging her to Jason, to Reyna . . .

She got up and forced herself to run but her legs felt like lead. She sprinted through an abandoned well decorated with flowers and vines. A pile of yellow fodder sat next to it.

Without thinking, she dove inside the haystack.

The Roman soldiers entered shortly, their feet pounding.

"Where did she go?" one said.

"Find her!" another commanded.

They searched the area. Piper only saw a faction through the hay, and hoped that none of them would get the idea of searching her hiding spot.

"She went that way!"

"No! She went this way!"

"Did she fall in the well?" a girl wondered.

"Agh! We'll take this route! And you take the other!"

Their footsteps fell into an ordered march. One group went west and the other went south.

Piper waited. she remembered Lance telling her that an Assassin must have patience. As she waited her eyes drooped, so she contacted her "teacher."

"Lance?"

"Yeah?"

Piper sighed. "You were right about the haystacks."

"And whenever am I wrong?" he asked, chuckling. "Rendezvous at the aqueduct."

"I'll be there."

Piper jumped out of her haystack, several pieces clinging to her clothing. She walked away, plucking out hay from her clothes.

The wind was knocked out of her when the shaft of a spear swung at her ribs. Her back met the hard solid floor as her body arched from the blow. Her robes were thin and light for easier movement but it meant less protection if she ever suffered a blow.

_Thanks Shiki,_ Piper thought wryly.

She groaned and hissed through her clenched teeth as she sat up. The tip of the spear stopped her and angled dangerously close to her face. Piper thanked that her hood didn't fall off.

"Hiding in the haystack?" a girl asked. "Very clever, but it won't save you now."

The girl standing over her was tall and lithe. She wore a black leather jumpsuit with a strange belt of interlocking gold links. She was an older version of Reyna with dark hair and equally dark eyes.

She was Queen of the Amazons. Reyna's older sister. She was Hylla, daughter of Bellona.

_Shit, I'm screwed. Gods, help me._

Hylla seemed to sense that her stunned silence meant the doom had dawned on Piper, and smirked. Out of nowhere, she imagined Reyna standing over her, sneering. Piper kicked the spear aside and quickly rose to her feet. The hidden blades ejected from her bracer as she crouched, ready for an attack.

Hylla recovered easily. She lunged forward, the spear point aiming for Piper's stomach. She warded it off with her knife and took a step back.

"It's a pity about you Assassins," Hylla said. "Are you sure your not an Amazon?"

_Not the least bit. But even if I was, I can't defeat her._ She's the daughter of a war goddess. She was trained in every weapon known to man. Not to mention she's athletic, so escaping is not an option. How is a daughter of Aphrodite suppose to defeat a daughter of Bellona?

Lance's words echoed in her head. _Your not very strong so your opponent will think your weak. Have them attack, block their every blow. Make them weary, then strike._

Their "dance" continued for a few agonizing heartbeats. Hylla smiled confidently and expertly twirled her spear with a flair before striking and striking. She always missed. Piper recoiled at every jab, stepping back or shifting around, further angering the older girl. But every stroke Hylla made came back even harder and stronger. Piper felt beads of sweat trail down her back and her lack of energy caused her muscles to loosen.

"Your a coward," Hylla said icily. "Remove your hood and surrender peacefully, and no harm will come to you."

Piper was the least bit tempted.

"What's the matter? Too scared to say anything? Or are you afraid of losing?"

_That's not gonna work either._ Piper couldn't help but grin at her futile attempts. Hylla bristled and thrusted her spear again. Piper rolled out of the way.

"Coward! Attack! What are you so afraid of?"

_I can't taunt her,_ Piper thought. _She'll recognize my voice and after this is done, whether I win or lose, she'll run off to inform her little sister. I have to be careful. I have to walk out of this. My friends are waiting for me._

Hylla lunged with her spear. Piper deflected and quickly used the other hidden blade to stab Hylla on the shoulder. The older girl cried out but she didn't clutch her shoulder. When your a Roman, weakness was not considered an ideal trait.

Hylla panted heavily and ran a hand through her dark hair. She yelled what sounded like a battle cry and thrust her spear forward again. Piper side stepped, grabbed the shaft with both hands, pulled, and kicked Hylla's stomach. The older girl let go and stumbled forward. Piper twisted her body back, holding the spear like a bat and swung it at Hylla's head. The Queen of Amazons fell back then crumbled on the floor, defeated.

_I didn't kill her,_ Piper thought, panting. _She's alive. She's still breathing._ The spear fell from Piper's hands as she walked away.

There was a stable to her right with saddled horses. The man watching over them was sleeping against the wall, drool dripping down his chin. Piper quietly grabbed a white mare by the reins, mounted, and trotted away. When New Rome was well behind her, she urged the horse to sprint for the aqueduct.

It didn't surprise Piper to see that she was the last to arrive. After that spectacle with Hylla and outrunning Romans, she had a reason to have come so late.

The door to the entrance was already open. A large rectangular hole on the white bricked column had vanished. Lance and Roberto stood in front of it but they seemed to be arguing and didn't notice her until she spoke.

"What's wrong?" she asked, dismounting.

"This damn door." Roberto growled.

"What about it?"

"The Romans will follow us," Lance answered. "They know where we've gone thanks to Jason Grace. We have to lock the entrance so the Romans won't follow us but . . . "

"But?" Piper urged.

"One of us has to stay and lock it from the outside."

"I'll stay," Piper said.

"No, if they catch you then that's it. They think you're still at home, weeping and mourning, and if they see you as an Assassin, there's no telling what's gonna happen to you. You're too valuable, and too vulnerable."

"Gee, thanks. But seriously, I'll stay."

"No." Lance's tone was sharp.

"We can't argue about this," Roberto said through clenched teeth. "I'll stay."

"No!" Lance's hood fell back slightly due to the chase so his face was shown. His eyes looked torn. "No man left behind."

Something in Lance's light brown eyes flashed. They looked . . . wet. Desperation clawed at him, she could see that much but there was something about his voice. _No man left behind . . ._

Roberto swiped the key from Lance. "We don't have time for this. The Romans are coming. Piper, give me your horse. I'll outrun them, I can—"

"Give me the damn thing."

Piper didn't hear her approach but suddenly she appeared like magic. Sophia snatched the key from Roberto's hand and gave him a rough shove. "Go, I'll make sure they don't follow you."

It was dark but the distant light from New Rome was enough for Piper to see Sophia's expression. The older woman's face was often fashioned like a statue, with determination or disapproval being included. Right now they were grim.

"What about you?" Lance asked in a broken tone.

"Go on," she urged. "I'll think of something. I always do."

Lance hesitated but obeyed. Piper stepped through the doorway, behind Roberto who gently pushed Lance into the entrance. She didn't miss the desperate glance Lance sent to Sophia.

Piper's foot stepped in the entrance when Sophia gripped her forearm and said, "Protect him," before the door slid, closing, leaving them in darkness.

For a few minutes, they didn't know what to do. The walls grazed her shoulders and her friends were in front of her so she was left to remain in place. She didn't even feel their presence. The eerie silence made her feel like she was alone. Maybe she was. Neither of her companions made any indication that they were there. She was almost convinced that her friends simply vanished until . . .

Roberto farted.

Piper covered her nose and waved the air around her face. Lance gagged. "Dude, that's nasty."

"Sorry," Roberto didn't sound sorry. "Couldn't hold it in."

Lance coughed. "Gods almighty, what did you eat?"

"Hmms, lobster, steak, hamburger, ice cream, some beans—"

"That explains it."

"Can we please get moving?" Piper asked.

"I feel bad for you, Piper," Lance sympathized.

For the remainder of the walk, Piper covered her nose and warily glanced at the dark shape in front of her. The path led them down and down and down, bringing them deeper and deeper until it led straight. Piper used her Eagle Vision to see through the black.

Roberto was probably the tallest mortal she ever met. He had to walk sideways since his shoulders were so broad and he ducked his head to keep from bumping on the ceiling. Past him, she only saw the top of Lance's head and past _him_ was a vast range of darkness.

"How long is this?" Roberto whined. "I'm hungry."

Piper rolled her eyes. "You're always hungry."

The sound of Lance grunting kept Roberto from retorting.

"What if they catch her?" Lance wondered aloud.

He was referring to Sophia. Bitter and sharp witted Sophia. Piper wanted to demand why he was so concerned for the older woman. She was like a block of ice; cold and reserved. What kind of relationship did she have with Lance that would make him so shaken?

Odd as it may be but she could see that the younger boy genuinely cared for Sophia. "She'll be fine," Piper reassured.

"Hey, look there's light."

Roberto was right. A faint ray of light fingered its way through the dark and illuminated the ground. They all ran towards it. The brightness was almost blinding when Piper merged from the hole in the wall. She covered her blurred gaze at the yellow hazy light and rubbed her eyes.

When her eyesight cleared, she glanced around. Roberto had his mouth open. "Holy cow."

Pillars of clear blue crystals stuck out of the earth, shining spontaneously as numerous fissures and stalagmites decorated the ground. There was a large brazier blazing with fire to the right and to her left was a stream of rushing water. Torches held on scones flickered, creating shadows. The ceiling was so high that Piper didn't see the top. She wondered how deep they head traveled.

_Who would have thought that a mine filled with crystals would be under New Rome?_ Piper thought. This place is amazing. Though, there was one problem.

Up ahead, there was a lined path where it ended at the edge of a massive, circular abyss. A half bridge was built over it though it didn't extend too far.

Piper and Roberto walked over to the half-built bridge. "How deep do you think it is?" she asked

Roberto leaned over the gaping hole, looked down, and spit. After a few seconds, he shrugged, "I can't even see the bottom."

"Too bad we have to go down there," Lance muttered.

Piper felt a jolt of fear course through her body. "Isn't there an elevator we could use?"

"There is but we can't use it." Lance walked over to a pulley system. An _empty_ pulley system. "Your friends, Hazel and Nico, used the elevator."

"Fantastic."

"Guys, look," Roberto walked behind a stalagmite and bent down. He stood back up with a small red chest and walked over to the them. Inside held a bunch of ropes conmected to spikes. "We could use these ropes. It'll be just like rock climbing."

It took five minutes to untangle the rope, another five to wrap the belts around their waist and twenty minutes for them to secure the spikes. Everytime they tried, though, they failed.

"You guys go ahead," Roberto said. "I'll hold the rope and come down after you."

"How?" Piper asked. The ropes wouldn't stay secured around a stalagmite since it kept breaking and the spikes had a blunt edge which wouldn't hold Roberto who was as big as a mountain.

"How else?" Roberto retorted. "I'll climb down."

After falling off the Grand Canyon, Piper wasn't afraid of heights. She stood over the edge and glanced at Lance cautiously. "You go first."

His lazy smirk came back. "Don't trust me?" he asked.

She crossed her arms. "Since you pushed me off that building? No."

Roberto gave Lance a small push in the back. "You heard her, Lance. Ladies first."

"You wound me, Roberto."

Lance turned his body toward them, smiled confidently, and began climbing down.

"Don't balk," Roberto told her.

Piper gulped. _That's a long way down,_ she thought. _Would the rope be able to reach that far?_ She prayed that it did.

She watched Lance first. He jumped down a few feet everytime his foot found a secure place on the wall. His palms rested on the wall but they didn't grip for any hole. Piper followed his example, her heart leaping as she gripped the rope for dear life.

"What was that?" Roberto asked.

Lance looked up. "What is it?"

Far below, Piper could see uncertainty and suspicion creeping in Roberto's face. He bit his bottom lip as he looked over his shoulder. "I thought . . . I thought I heard—"

"There!"

"What?" Piper looked up, one hand on the rope and the other on her head to make sure her hood didn't fall back. Up twenty feet or so, Roman soldiers stared down at them, their purple shirt wet with sweat and their Imperial Gold weapons glittering.

Piper gulped. "How did they get in here?"

"No," the small voice of Lance was full of devastation and fear. "Sophia . . ."

A boy with red hair grabbed Roberto by the front of his shirt and held him over the edge. Roberto struggled to break free as he held onto the rope. The rope that kept Piper and Lance from falling . . .

Another boy with dark hair stepped up and grabbed the redhead by the scruff of his neck. His olive skin looked soft and his dark green eyes was like a leaf after it was dowsed with rain. _Was that Mason?_

"Are you out of your mind?"

The redhead recoiled. "Octavian ordered for these outlaws to be killed on sight!"

"That wasn't what _Jason_ ordered! He demanded that we bring the Assassins back as prisoners!"

The redhead growled. "Praetor Reyna vetoed Jason's decision. And the majority of the council agreed that they die."

"You idiot! You're suppose to be Jason's trusted guards! He knew that she would command that! That's why he ordered your squad to bring them back alive! They need to be questioned and put on trial!"

The redhead looked scarily calm, his gloved hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "A change of plans, Senator Mason. I'm afraid we work for Octavian."

The redhead grabbed Roberto by the scruff of his neck and shoved him hard.

"NO!"

"Roberto!"

He didn't scream. He didn't even move. The air rushed past him as Roberto did nothing. Piper watched helplessly as his dark figure flew past Lance. Soon, the older boy was consumed by the darkness.

Suddenly Piper was falling . . . diving. Diving into darkness.

Into death.

* * *

_And I leave you with a cliffhanger! Next chapter, everyone dies! The end! Just kidding!_

_Anyway, I have an exam on Monday and Tuesday, neither of which I'm prepared to pass since I hate trig and biology. But once that's done, whether I fail or not, I'll put all my attention into chapter 12. I'm not even going to start my project, I'll just get the 0. I've been working hard all year!_

_I'd like to thank **The Helios Spirit, Fanfiction Bard, avengfulDemigod, gg,** and **(especially) Dizzoula9** for reviewing! You guys are the best! Your reviews always bring a smile to my face :) Extra thanks to **The Helios Spirit** for giving me the "snitch" idea._

_Thanks **NotUrAverageMusician, Fanfiction Bard,** and **Dizzoula9** for following! And thanks **maya356556, Dizzoula9,** and **JasperForTheWin** for favoriting!_

_To any AC gamers, has anyone played Brotherhood? I played it over the weekend just to add some of its technique and style into my story. Anyway, I killed one of the guards and then threw his spear at another. It was so fun. I spent the whole time free roaming and chucking spears at guards. I did the same thing with the axe except it hit a civilian XD_

_If you guys haven't seen the artwork for this, check it out at deviantart. I have the same username and the concept art is still a work in progress._

_See you in the next chapter!_


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